


A Night to Remember

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bipolar Ian, Explicit Language, Fluff, I like the concept, M/M, Mention of Past Abuse, Mickey is a cook, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, even if it's not very important, indian culture references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:18:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU, except no one knows soulmates are a real thing.</p><p>Sometimes, timing sucks. Ian is moving to LA, and of course he meets Mickey Milkovich on his last night in New York. </p><p>But when fate is involved, there is pretty much nothing you can do about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking up is tough

Ian was in his bedroom, desperately looking for a shirt. He had already packed everything and the ticking clock kept reminding him that he was going to be late for his dinner date. He was moving in LA the next day to open a new gym, and for a second, he wondered how he was going to manage another place when he couldn't even remember keeping a clean shirt on the side. A famous sport sponsor heard about what he had done with his gym in West Village and got fairly interested in what Ian could actually accomplish. After weeks of negotiation, they offered to help Ian open another place and to turn his small business into a big, successful one. Hence the boxes everywhere, the lack of clean clothes and the loss of patience. 

 

He was looking forward to it, and he wasn’t even sad to leave the big apple, despite what he had there. Yes, he was close to his big brother and yes, he was kind of sad to leave the gym to his manager Rick, but after everything he went through in the past few years, LA was a fresh start. Nobody had to know he was born in a shitty neighborhood in Chicago, that he was bipolar or that he was fagbashed when he was 17. He could be anyone, do anything.

 

He never regretted following Lip to New York. For almost a year, he did absolutely nothing. He had no diploma, no experience and if the job required to mention his disorder, he didn't show up at the interviews because he knew the outcome too well. He decided after a while that if nobody wanted to give him a chance, he was going to give it to himself. He came up with an entire business plan with Lip's help and went to so many banks he lost count after a while. After he graduated, Lip quickly found a job (after all the guy was a genius) and with a big brother capable of convincing anyone that Ian’s project was gold, he opened his own business. He was fucking good at what he was doing now, and he particularly liked the idea of being independent, of being his own boss.

 

He was sharing an incredible apartment with his big brother despite being able to live on his own. Lip was barely there, his job took most of his time, but Ian didn't mind. He was going to miss him of course, but Lip could always come in LA if he wanted to check on his brother. Everything was almost perfect.

 

The only thing Ian needed to take care of was his boyfriend Tom. They had met a year ago at the gym, and everything with the guy was fine; he was nice, smart and funny, and the sex was good. But the something was missing. Somehow, Ian had always expected great when it comes to love. Tom made it pretty clear that he didn't want to break up with Ian. According to him, long distance relationships weren't so bad and since they truly cared about each other, it was totally manageable. Except, it wasn't. Ian wasn't as attached as Tom was, and leaving New York and still be someone's boyfriend was unrealistic. He was breaking up with Tom, there was no way around that. To his relief, he finally found a green V-neck shirt, put it on and grabbed his leather jacket before leaving the apartment.

…

Mandy was cleaning a table at the restaurant she worked at with his brother when she saw the most handsome redhead ever coming in. The restaurant was empty except for a couple, and she was bored. So when she saw the man standing awkwardly at the entrance, she stared for a second before he caught her in action and smiled wildly at her. Mandy felt the blush on her cheeks but kept looking at him until he decided to come closer.

 

“Hi, can I get a table please?“ He asked with a bright smile.

 

“Huh, yeah sure.“ She said shyly. 

 

The redhead smiled at her and followed her to a table in the back of the restaurant. Ian sat and asked for two menus, and Mandy just nodded because for some reason she couldn’t speak clearly in front the guy. She went straight to the kitchen to find her brother Mickey who was chopping vegetables, an apron around his waist and a towel on his shoulder.

 

“Mick! Mick you gotta stop and come with me for a sec!“

 

“I’m busy, fuck off." He said, not even looking at her.

 

“Then stop for a second, for god’s sake. You gotta see this!“

 

“Unless it’s Lee Pace shirtless waiting for me, I don’t care bitch.“

 

“Ooh trust me, it’s even better.“

 

Mickey finally stopped his chopping, looked at his sister with his eyebrows furrowed, quite intrigued.

 

“The sexiest guy alive just walked in here. I totally want to bang that.“ she said jumping all over the kitchen.

 

“Then go and let me finish what I am doing. Besides, I feel like you say that every fucking day to me.“

 

“Fuck you, that’s not even remotely true. Stay here if you want, I’m going back“.

 

When Mandy left the kitchen, Mickey put down the knife he was holding and took a glimpse through the kitchen door. He couldn’t see the redhead in question so he casually stepped off the kitchen and finally saw what was all the fuzz about. Mickey couldn’t deny it, the guy was hot as hell: strong arms, large chest, defined muscles, a jawline to die for, and a face… God, a face that would make angels cry. He had big puppy eyes (which color? Impossible to say from where he was), freckles all over a sweet face. Mandy might have said something funny because the guy smiled and Mickey wished he wasn’t smiling just because the other guy was. He shook his head in disbelief, and went back to work. He was turning into a fucking sap over a guy he didn’t even know. Plus he wasn’t very happy with the fact that he and his sister had the same taste in guys. It was already hard to be so much alike physically and in manners to add a kink for the same type of men.

…

Ian asked for a cup of coffee but decided to wait for his boyfriend to order. He was late as usual (he had been waiting for 30 minutes) but Ian didn’t mind so much since he wasn’t too happy with what was ahead. When Tom arrived, he easily spotted Ian and sat at the table in front of him.

 

“Hey, babe.“ He said taking Ian’s hand in his.

 

“Hi.“

 

“So, you finished packing yet?“

 

“Yeah, everything’s settled.“ Ian said. Tom sensed quickly that something was wrong; Ian was acting weird, he wouldn’t even look at him in the eyes.

 

“You okay?“ Tom said, squeezing his hand.

 

“I need to talk to you about something…“

 

“Sure, shoot.“ Tom said with a huge grin, trying to encourage the other man. Ian took a deep breath and took back his hand to place it with the other under the table.

 

“I’m not sure the whole long distance thing is gonna do it for me.“

 

Tom froze, and sighed heavily before looking down.

 

“I thought we said we could make this work, I don’t-“

 

“I know we did and I’m sorry but I just don’t think it’s such a good idea after all.“

 

“You’re breaking up with me.“ It was more of an affirmation than a question but Ian was compelled to answer.

 

“Yes. I think it’s the right thing to do.“

 

“The right thing to do? I don’t understand…“

 

“Look, Tom I just don’t think we’re gonna make it. You here, me in LA… Don’t you want to be with someone that is _actually_ here?

 

“I want to be with you... I can come visit anytime, you’re gonna come back to see your brother, we can even meet halfway…“

 

Ian sighed in exasperation. He ran his hand through his hair and looked at the other man, determined to convince him that this was the right thing to do. If being a little rude was the only way, then so be it.

 

“That’s not the kind of relationship I want. I want more than this.“

 

“I can't believe you're doing this now." Tom let escape a sad chuckle and looked Ian straight in the eyes. "You're a fucking asshole.

 

Ian tried to take back his hand to calm him down because now he felt guilty as fuck for doing this. Tom retrieved his hands from the table and placed them on the booth, far away from Ian's. 

“You could have told me this long ago. I'm pretty sure this is no news to you." Tom sighed and covered his face with his hands. "I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.“ He repeated, and Ian wanted to dig a hole and bury himself deep. Tom stared at him for a moment, probably trying to figure out where all of this came from, but he quickly gave up. He shook his head in disbelief and stood up, his eyes fixed on Ian. He turned on his heels and started walking towards the entrance. He turned around mid-way, and Ian could tell he was trying not to cry. 

 

“Have a fucking nice life in LA.“ After that, Tom was gone and for good this time.

…

 

Mickey was exhausted. He was doing things mechanically, without thinking about it. His boss had told him to close the restaurant earlier that day, and he was more than happy to. All he wanted was to go home, have a beer, maybe smoke a joint with Mandy and sleep. He had a crazy week and he was exhausted. Working at the restaurant wasn’t his only job; he was also working as a bouncer in a gay club in Soho and it was always crowded these days. Most nights, it meant dealing with perverts trying to touch the dancers. But no, tonight was his night off and he planned on using it by doing absolutely nothing.

 

Mandy entered the kitchen a minute after the shouting ended and seemed disappointed.

 

“What’s with the face Mands? The redhead refused to take your number?“ He was grinning hard at his sister, and Mandy didn’t respond, just flipped him the bird.

 

“Seriously, what’s going on? You were all happy and fuck an hour ago.“

 

“I think the redhead just broke up with his boyfriend.“ She said pouting.

 

“Is that so?“ He said. Now he was interested.

 

“Stop fucking smiling at me, douchebag. The good ones are always gay, I’m sick of it.“

 

“I cannot deny that we are awesome.“

 

“Fuck off, I wasn’t talking about your sorry ass. I’m gonna go change. Meet me at home?“

 

“Yeah sure, I’ll clean this mess by myself, thank a lot.“ He said sarcastically.

 

“It’s your turn. I don’t give a shit, I’m going home.“ She threw her apron at her brother and left for the changing room, ignoring Mickey's curses.

 

Fifteen minutes after Mandy left, Mickey was finishing cleaning the kitchen when he heard someone clear his throat behind him. He turned around to see the redhead standing awkwardly.

 

“Yeah?“ Mickey said

 

“I’m sorry but the waitress left and I haven’t paid.“

 

“What did you order, man?“ Mickey was trying to act casual when he was having the dirtiest ideas about the guy. He was positive Mandy left without bringing the check to the guy so they could talk to each other. His sister was like that.

 

“Just coffee.“

 

“You know what, it’s on the house.“

 

“Okay, thanks!“

 

“No problem. You okay?“ Mickey asked, even if he didn’t know why.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.“

 

Mickey bit his lower lip; for some reason he didn't want the guy to leave so he acted on an impulse he didn't even know he had in him.

 

“If you want, we can go for a drink after I finish to clean that up. You seem like you could use it.“

 

The other boy seemed surprised but then smiled wildly at Mickey as if he just said the nicest thing ever.

 

“I could definitely use a drink.“

 

“Alright then, I should be ready in like ten minutes or so. I’m Mickey by the way.“

 

Ian came closer and leaned against the kitchen sink, few feet from Mickey. He presented his hand, and Mickey winced a little when they shook hands.

 

“Ian, my name is Ian.“


	2. An unexpected turn of events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'ed sorry sorry

Ian decided to wait for Mickey outside since he was clearly invading his space. Mickey didn’t ask him to, but Ian could see he was in his way. It was summer in NYC, the heat was barely bearable by day, but the nights were cool and nice, just like Ian loved them. He really needed a smoke though, his hands, his throat were craving for it but he decided to quit a while ago. Sometimes, he noticed that he’d hold his pens like they were cigarettes and he smiled at the old habit, something that was a part of him for years. Except that usually, he felt the need to smoke because he was busy at work or angry. Right now he had to admit he was stressed out because he was waiting for the man with amazing blue eyes to finish his cleaning and meet him in front of the restaurant.

 

Mickey surprised Ian by offering him to go for a drink, but Ian was not to complain; when he entered the kitchen, clearly intruding, he didn’t expect to end up face to face with a hot, sweaty, grumpy man. Ian felt something change in the air when he laid eyes on Mickey, something that he was sure he wasn’t the only one to feel. Mickey distractedly sized him up and refused to let him pay for coffee, which was pretty nice for a guy with tattoo knuckles that said “fuck u up“. Ian didn’t really know why he said yes when Mickey asked, but his entire body prevented him from saying otherwise. So here he was, waiting for Mickey with a weird feeling in his stomach, something he could not identify.

 

Mickey finally got out the restaurant, and locked the place down carefully before grabbing his pack of smokes from his pocket and lighting one. He sighed happily as the nicotine hit his system and finally looked at Ian, who was staring at his smoke intensely.

 

“You want one?“ Mickey said as he exhaled.

 

“Quit few weeks ago. I miss the smell.“

 

“Yeah well stop staring, it’s weird.“ Mickey smiled at him, a timid grin that Ian could only define as beautiful.

 

“So where are we going?“ Ian asked.

 

“A friend of mine works at a bar not far from here, we’d get free drinks.“

 

“Works with me.“

 

As they started walking, Ian realized that he had nothing to say to the guy next to him. They didn’t know each other, only knew their names and yet this wasn’t as awkward as it should have been. It was like hanging out with someone from home. Mickey had that thug gait and the threatening look that Ian witnessed so many times when he still wandered in the streets of the South Side.

 

“So where you from Mickey?“ He said.

 

“Chicago. Not the nice part.“

 

“Really? Me too! South Side, born and raised.“

 

“You shitting me, right? Fucking coincidence.“ Mickey said with a surprised face. “What’s your name?“

 

“Gallagher.“

 

“I knew the Gallaghers. Frank from the Alibi, of course and your brother… Phil or something?“

 

“Lip, yeah.“ Ian chuckled. “We actually live together. What about you? Maybe I know you’re family.“

 

“You probably do, actually… I’m a Milkovich.“

 

“Terry’s son?“ Ian asked, a little on alert right now.

 

“Yep.“ Mickey lit another cigarette, clearly not at ease.

 

“That’s fucked up, man. Terry was like the biggest psycho I’ve ever met.“

 

“Yeah well that’s why we got the fuck away, me and my sister Mandy. You met her at the restaurant, she’s the waitress.“

 

Memories came flooding back in Ian’s mind: that’s why the girl seemed familiar!

 

“Now that you mention it, I’m pretty sure we had a class together in high school. When she came.“

 

Mickey grinned at that because he knew well that his sister wasn’t so much into the whole academic thing until they came to NYC: Thanks to Mickey she started studying on her GED and was taking extra classes at NYU, classes he paid for. Nothing was more important in Mickey’s life than Mandy so he was glad to make the sacrifice.

 

“She is a pain in the ass, you missed nothing man.“

 

They finally stopped in front of a crowded bar, and once Mickey threw his cigarette away, they got in. The place was full of students apparently celebrating a birthday; they were drunk as hell, making out all over the place and shouting like animals. Ian didn’t mind so much but Mickey sighed and rolled his eyes. He reached the bar and called out for his friend.

 

“Yo, Charlie, man!“

 

The bartender turned away and smiled wildly at him, which Ian didn’t like very much, even if he didn’t know why. The guy approached them and gave Mickey a high five before realizing his friend wasn’t alone.

 

“This is Ian.“ Mickey said.

 

“Hi, I’m Charlie.“

 

“Nice to meet you.“

 

Charlie served them two beers and winked at Mickey as he turned around to serve another customer, leaving Mickey and Ian on their own. Ian needed to ask so he spilled what was on his mind.

 

“You guys know each other for a long time?“

 

“Met him at my other work.“ Mickey said before gulping on his drink.

 

“What do you do?“ Ian sensed that Mickey wasn’t comfortable.

 

“I’m a bouncer at the Industry.“ He said casually.

 

“Man, I love this place.“

 

“Yeah, well it’s nothing more than a perverts hole for me but if you say so. Trying to grope my ass when they think I don’t notice.“

 

“I can relate to them.“

 

Mickey’s eyes went wide as he stared at Ian for saying something so forward, and Ian knew he was red tomato right now; he didn’t expect the words forming in his mind to actually come out of his mouth. Mickey sniggered, his gaze still fixed on Ian.

 

“Chill Red, I had lamest lines.“ Mickey smiled and titled his head suggestively, something that Ian was starting to _really_ like. He bit his lip and moved closer to Mickey so their bodies were almost touching now; it was nothing weird since they were surrounded by drunk students who were turning the place upset down; they could barely hear each other so proximity was needed.

 

“What do you do for a living?“ Mickey asked.

 

“I run a gym in West Village. I’m actually leaving tomorrow, I’m gonna open a new one in LA.“

 

“That’s nice." Mickey began as he brought his hand on the counter, inches from where Ian's hand was. "Last night in New York and you spend it with me? I feel special, Red.“

 

Ian smirked at the other man, before rubbing his neck.

 

“I actually planned on spending it with my brother but he had to go to Shanghai for work so… I just broke up with my boyfriend instead. Crazy busy night, eh?“

 

“That explains the scene.“

 

“Yeah again sorry about that, I didn’t know he would react like this… it was embarrassing.“

 

Mickey scratched his cheek and sighed, obviously thinking about something. He knocked on the bar two times and Charlie took away the empty glasses to replace them with full ones.

 

“My thought? You’re leaving tomorrow, and long distance is crap. You did the right thing.“ He clinked his beer with the one Ian had in his hand and took a long gulp as if it was his first beer in months. Ian smiled at that; Mickey was so at ease, so straightforward, honest and also a little rude on the edges but he liked it; the guy was really something.

 

“Is there something you’d like to do on your last night?“

 

Ian sensed once again the atmosphere change between them: Mickey was licking his lower lip seductively, something that Ian wasn’t sure he would handle for long. The brunette was devouring Ian with his eyes and he kept staring at his mouth like it was hypnotizing. Ian got the message, and placed his free hand on his waist, squeezing a little; he let his fingers go under the soft fabric of Mickey’s shirt and he felt the other man shiver.

 

“I have a couple of ideas…“ the redhead said with eyes full of lust.

 

Mickey was about to lean forward when Charlie shouted his name.

 

“Hey Mickey, buddy!“

 

“Yep?“

 

“My shift is almost finished, and Tessa just texted me that she’s having a party at her father’s place. You in?“ Charlie gave the glass he was holding to a very drunk customer and waited for Mickey to give him an answer.

 

“What do you think?“ Mickey asked, turning back to Ian.

 

Ian didn’t particularly want to spend his evening with Charlie but he felt like Mickey wanted to go otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered asking Ian if he was up for it. Besides, he was pretty sure he'd follow Mickey anywhere at this point.

 

“The place is sick, man. Went once, it’s just like in these movies where the kitchen is the size of an apartment. And there’s a pool.“

 

“Yeah sure, why not?“

 

Mickey turned around and gave a thumb-up to Charlie who grinned hard at him. Yeah, definitely, Ian didn’t like him.

 

They kept flirting like teenagers until Charlie finished his shift. Ian would innocently place his hand on Mickey’s chest a little longer than necessary when someone would push him on his way to the bar, Mickey would distractedly put his hand on Ian’s back and gently rub it. It was nice, and so easy; it struck Ian how easy it was. Every touch sent jolts of electricity in his body and just looking at Mickey, with his smug face, the way he looked so sexy and so cute at the same time, made something indescribable to Ian. He didn’t remember the last time he had wanted someone so bad, and the thought made him think about Tom; he was now more certain than ever that he took the right decision. Tom, in a year of relationship, never made him feel this way. All he could think about was taking Mickey’s clothes off, running his mouth on his chest, feeling his lips against his and then forcefully tackle him onto a bed.

 

The three of them finally left the bar and took a cab to the party. Mickey didn't lie about the apartment; it was huge, almost indecent. Ian felt like he was in some TV show, where people take an elevator to the highest apartment and end up in some kind of mansion. At some point, Ian saw Charlie grab Mickey’s hand to lead him to the bar and felt jealousy spreading all over him. He was seriously considering leaving since he didn’t owe anyone anything but then, Mickey reappeared and gave him a devilish grin while grabbing his forearm to help him cross the waves of people. Ian’s skin was burning under Mickey’s touch, the sensation was exquisite. They found a bottle of vodka hidden in Tessa’s father secret cabinet (an information she shared once with Charlie who never forgot) and went to the rooftop where the pool was. Charlie undressed almost immediately and tried to convince Mickey to do the same, but the Milkovich man gently refused, too gently for Ian’s taste. He stared at the man in the pool, wondering if Mickey knew the true nature of his feelings, and also how he could get rid of him. Mickey wasn't his or anything, he knew that but still.

“You okay there?“ Mickey startled Ian out of his thoughts as he sat next to Ian on the lounger.

 

“Yeah, just thinking.“ Ian answered absentmindedly.

 

“Something interesting?“ Mickey asked.

 

“Just wondering if you and Charlie…“ Ian made an awkward gesture with his hands that Mickey quickly understood.

 

“Oh no. No, no, no, no, he’s just a friend.“

 

“He likes you.“

 

“Well, I don’t. I... I’m more into tall, ginger, alien looking guys.“ Mickey bumped his knee with Ian’s and he blushed a little, something that Ian found incredibly cute.

 

 _Fuck it_ , Ian thought. He leant forward and kissed Mickey gently, very softly as if he was worried the other man would freak out. But Mickey didn’t; Ian felt his smile against his lips and took that as his cue to deepen the kiss. He opened his mouth and pressed his body as much as he could against Mickey. His breathing quickly became erratic as Mickey turned the kiss into something much more intense; it was intoxicating. The other man tasted like alcohol and cigarettes, and Ian had never thought he could crave for something after only a few second of having it. His entire body was aching for more and he could feel the warm feeling in his stomach again. Mickey had placed a hand on his neck and was gently caressing the soft skin under his jaw, making Ian feel like a mess. They finally pulled apart to get their breathing even, but Mickey kept his forehead pressed against Ian’s, he didn’t want to break the physical contact yet. Ian could barely see the blue in his eyes right now but the image he had in front of him was certainly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Mickey let his hand explore Ian’s back under his shirt and he pinched him softly; even if he had wanted to, he couldn't stop smirking and god his smile was beautiful. Ian needed more, the kiss had only unravel the hunger he felt for Mickey's body since the moment he laid eyes on him. He looked him in the eyes and bit Mickey’s lower lip lightly, his own hand tantalizingly caressing Mickey's thigh. Mickey let out a groan of frustration that made Ian feel very content with himself and he knew right there and then that his wishes were about to be granted.

 

“We could go to my place if you want.“ Ian whispered hotly in Mickey's ear.

 

Mickey automatically stood up and proposed his hand to Ian as an invitation.

 

“Let’s get the hell out of here.“

 

As they practically ran out of the place, Ian thought that he never believed his last night in New York would be so surprising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos. Hope you liked this one :)


	3. your touch is divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically me having too many feels because of the show

Ian and Mickey quickly caught a cab after leaving Tessa’s party. They were sitting few inches apart, and Ian could feel the warmth radiating from Mickey’ body. The brunette had a smile plastered on his face and he kept bouncing his right leg impatiently. Ian on the other hand, was suddenly feeling very anxious. He didn’t know why but the idea of being alone in his apartment with Mickey was terrifying. Obviously Ian wanted this, looked forward to it but he felt kind of ridiculous to be that anxious; a one-night stand was no biggie, he knew that since he used to have a lot but for some reason, he felt like this was much more. Mickey glanced at the man sitting next to him, and felt Ian’s struggle somehow; he took his hand and squeezed it gently, and Ian finally looked at him with his big puppy eyes.

 

“You okay?” Mickey said, concern in his voice.

“I’m fine.“ Ian gripped Mickey’s hand firmly so the other man would not take it back.

 

Maybe it was the feeling of Mickey’s skin against his, maybe it was the frown on his worried face, but Ian felt his discomfort vanish in a second.

 

“I’m warning you guys, no funny business back there. I ain’t cleaning up!“ the cab driver was watching them in his rearview mirror and he didn’t seem to appreciate the situation. Mickey rolled his eyes in exasperation and placed his right hand on the front seat so the cab driver could see his tattoo.

 

“Just keep your eyes on the road, man.”

 

The driver got the message all right and went back to focusing on the road instantly. Ian huffed a laugh because Mickey was apparently very efficient at scaring people away in a very south side way. They finally arrived in front of Ian’s building and Mickey was happy to get out of the tiny space. He flipped the bird at the driver once he was out, watched him through the window and knock on it to catch his attention so he could drop a very articulated “asshole“. The cab driver shook his head in disbelief and started his engine to leave. A very proud Mickey turned his attention to Ian, who was at the building entrance, fumbling with his key, his hands a little bit shaky. He took a second to stare at the other man, let his eyes linger on his body before snapping out of it.

 

Even if he wasn’t the type of guy who would say that, Mickey had to admit that Ian was fucking cute: he loved the timid smiles thrown at him earlier and the blushes here and there. Those smiles turned into something more flirtatious and Mickey couldn't wait to find out more. Gallagher finally opened the door and Mickey let escape a whistle of admiration as he took in the grandeur of the building: this hall was probably the size of his apartment. They took the stairs to the 4th floor where Ian lived and went into the apartment he shared with his brother.

 

“Really got out of the south side, did you?” Mickey said.

 

He was pretty much blown away by Ian’s place but he had every reason to be. Since Lip started working at the law firm and Ian had opened his gym, money was not an issue anymore and as every poor person who becomes wealthy, they decided to see big. He wasn’t necessary of course, but it felt so good to buy everything they couldn’t afford back then, when they still had a squirrel fund. Ian smiled at Mickey’s reaction, watched him intensely as the Milkovich man was inspecting the place with an impressed look on his face. He finally stopped staring and went to the kitchen to grab two beers before heading back to the living room where Mickey was fiddling with one of Lip’s toys (a millennium falcon from Star Wars) like it was the most incredible thing he had ever seen. Ian came closer and handed him his beer, watching him with amusement.

 

“Man, I’ve always wanted that stuff!“

 

“Yeah well, you should see Lip’s bedroom, it’s basically full of that shit.“

 

Mickey bit his lip to stop his grin but failed miserably.

 

“Actually I’m not really interested in your brother’s bedroom.“

 

 _Here we go_ , Ian thought. He felt the tension rushing back but fought the feeling with everything he had. Mickey was cool, he was super hot and Ian felt so at ease in his presence that he wasn’t going to ruin the moment because he felt nervous.

 

Mickey put his bottle of beer on the nearest furniture and took a step forward so they were practically touching now. Ian felt his heart miss a beat, and his breathing was uneven; it was pretty incredible how the other man could turn his legs into jello. Mickey placed his hand on Ian’s heart, stared at it for a second but eventually looked up to meet Ian’s gaze; he smiled at him, a genuine smile that made Ian's inside twist. He realized that he had felt nervous for no reason because now that Mickey was touching him, he knew. It was not the idea of being close to Mickey that made him feel weird; it was the idea that it would probably never happen again. He was leaving the next day and he knew he would crave for the contact again but won’t be able to get it. Something clicked in him at this moment: He’d rather spend one night with the other man, letting himself go completely than nothing. He closed the small gap between him and Mickey and crashed their lips forcefully; with his hands, he cupped Mickey’s face and pushed him against the wall behind so he could press his body against his.

 

Mickey didn’t know how much time they stayed there just making out: maybe it was only a second, maybe it was an hour but feeling Ian under his touch was overwhelming. He felt like he could touch better, see better, even feel better. Ian’s hands were everywhere under Mickey’s shirt, making him shiver and he bit Ian’s lower lip in pleasure. Mickey was some kind of map that Ian had decided to explore, determined to memorize every fucking detail, driving Mickey completely crazy in the process. He finally took a step back, his hands never leaving Ian’s body.

 

“Maybe we could-“

 

“Yeah, totally.” Ian said with a huge smile; he took Mickey’s hand and led to his bedroom.

 

…

 

They were both lying on their back on Ian’s bed, smoking a cigarette that went back and forth in silence. Ian wanted to say something, anything, but words were useless. They couldn’t even begin to describe what he was experiencing right now. He had always been good at sex, or so he was told but this, this was the most incredible sex he had ever had. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the look on Mickey’s face when he was pounding into him, the way his skin burned with every contact. It was maybe silly since Mickey was still there, lying next to him but Ian could feel the sensation already vanishing and he didn’t want to. Mickey’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

 

“I think I’m gonna go.”

 

Mickey was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on his boxers and his jeans but Ian couldn’t see his face. He didn’t want him to leave, not so soon but he also didn’t want to appear needy. He felt like he only had him for a minute and it was definitely not enough. He finally settled for the truth because in the end, he didn’t care.

 

“I don’t want you to go. Stay please.“

 

Mickey stood up and finally looked at Ian who was so beautiful it hurt him a little. He was sprawled on the bed, naked and absolutely glorious, his hair all messy and that particular glow you get after sex. Mickey never stayed longer than necessary at a guy’s apartment but he really didn’t want to go: he knew that the second he would be back at his apartment, he would be thinking about the redhead. Jesus, when he did he become so soft?

 

“Alright but you gotta feed me, I’m starving.”

 

Ian smiled wide at him, quickly jumping out of bed to put some clothes on; when he reached for his shirt, Mickey grabbed his forearm and pulled him close.

 

“Don’t you dare put that thing on.“ He said with a serious face.

 

Ian chuckled, dropped the shirt on the floor and held his hand in the air as he had just been caught doing something bad. Mickey finally let go of his arm and was about to get out of the room when Ian caged him from behind, pressing his body against his back.

 

“Only if you don’t either.“

 

They went to the kitchen and basically turned Ian’s fridge upside down, eating everything that could be eaten; Ian sniffed everything before taking a bite when Mickey just shoved in his mouth what he could reach. They took back the beers they had left earlier even if they weren’t cold anymore and Ian put some music on before crashing on his couch, Mickey following suit. Once they were comfortable, Mickey started talking about the music they were listening because he really didn’t know what to say. Ian wanted to know what he liked, if he missed the south side, if he ever went to Europe…The guy had just so many questions, it should have been exhausting. Instead, Mickey answered everything with blunt honesty and wondered when he became so open.

 

When Ian was out of ideas, it was Mickey who asked the questions and Ian didn’t even mind when he wanted to know personal things. He told him about his bipolar disorder and the rough years he had gone through not so long ago. He talked about Monica and Frank, his siblings, his first experiences with way too old men. Mickey watched him intensely as he spoke and the redhead couldn’t decipher his expressions. Was he grossed out? Intrigued? Ian had no clue, but he was sure as hell hoping Mickey wasn’t thinking he was a nut case. First, because he really wasn’t and second, because he wanted Mickey to like him even if their time together was almost up. Eventually, Mickey just shrugged and talked about his own childhood, his family, his shitty need to beat up people when he felt bad.

 

“No one got out of Canaryville without scars, dude. They just don't have the same shape.“

 

At some point, when all the heavy subject were discussed, their talk became more casual and funnier too. Mickey teased Ian about his dancing career and Ian almost pissed himself when Mickey told him Seagal was hot ("Have you seen that fucking ponytail man?"). Mickey also talked about his sister, how much he loved her even though he never said the words, how he would do anything for her. Ian was pretty sure Mandy was great, because if she was nothing like Mickey, well there was pretty much nothing not to love. Before they knew, the sun was rising and New York was waking up: they had been talking for hours and they didn’t even realize. Ian freaked out when he realized the day was starting and went to the kitchen where he had left his phone to check exactly what time it was.

 

**6.12 am**

 

He still had time. He didn’t have to throw Mickey out and finish packing; he could linger on his couch with Mickey for a little while, which was good because he was not prepared to let go yet. He went back to the living room, only to find Mickey lying there with his eyes closed and a little smile tugged on his lips. Ian didn’t know, but Mickey was doing exactly what he had done hours before: he was rewinding their time in bed. He still could feel Ian’s lips hovering over his, the way he pulled at his hair, the way he bit Mickey’s palm when he reached his orgasm. He was in the middle of this when he felt Ian kiss him: Gallagher had bent over the couch to catch Mickey’s lips in a kiss. Mickey kept his eyes closed, not willing to break Ian’s move. He finally detached his lips from his and opened his eyes. Ian was watching him with an expression of pure love that should have disgust Mickey but instead he felt something explode in his heart. What the fuck was that?

 

“How much time do we have?“ He said, instantly regretting saying it like that.

 

Ian greeted his teeth, his expression hard and sad as he spoke the words.

 

“I’ll need you to leave in like… 2 hours.”

 

Mickey nodded and took Ian’s hand in his, placing it on his heart so gently he was having a hard time getting who he was right now. He didn’t do these things, didn’t stay after sex, and didn’t want to. Yet, he was holding hands and kissing Ian like there was no tomorrow and he was actually feeling bad about the other guy leaving; it felt like he was losing something he had actually never really had. Without a word, he stood up and led Ian to his bedroom once again because as dizzy as he was feeling, he wasn’t good with words and he needed to have Ian right now.

 

They got rid of their clothes and got into bed, eyes never leaving the other’s body. The previous night, sex had been overwhelming (in so many ways for the both of them) because it was hard and fast, sexy as hell and rough, exactly how Mickey liked it. They had bit each other’s neck, dig their nails into the other’s flesh as if they were trying to mark a temporary territory. What Mickey wanted right now was not that, even if it had been so good. He wanted to take his time so he could register the way Ian was pressed against him. He wanted to look Ian in the eyes, watch as the blush would creep on his cheeks, the way he would lick his lips suggestively. He wanted to whisper in his ears, tell him how good it felt when Ian was slowly going back and forth in him. He felt complete as if he had found the one person that fitted him perfectly. His match.

 

When Ian’s alarm buzzed off, he knew it was time to get up and ask Mickey to leave. They were still in bed, spooning like an old couple somehow, Ian's chin tucked into the crook of Mickey’s neck. He squeezed his arm gently as a cue and they got off the bed very slowly. Mickey gathered his clothes as Ian went to the kitchen to make coffee. He felt a little numb, struggling with all the feelings he was having when he heard Mickey clear his throat loudly.

 

“I’m gonna head out man.“

 

“You don’t want coffee before leaving?“ he cursed himself for having a weakness in his voice, but Mickey didn’t seem to notice.

 

“I’m good. Have a nice flight, I guess and hum…Yeah“ Mickey wiggled a bit on his feet, looking down the whole time.

 

Ian made his way toward the door and opened it for Mickey, who was still not looking at him. Ian blocked him right before he headed out and kissed him passionately. Mickey responded immediately and cradled Ian’s neck to push his body against the taller man. They were recording the burning sensation and the softness that went with it one last time. Ian finally pulled away and let Mickey go, but watched him the entire time until Mickey disappeared from his sight. He closed the door behind him and sighed heavily; not once in is life had he felt this happy. He was moving to LA in a few hours but he knew deep down that this was not the last time he would see Mickey Milkovich. No fucking way.

 

**…**

 

“Hey douchebag!“ Mandy yelled.

 

“Hi“

 

Mandy turned his face away from the television to size her brother up.

 

“You okay?” she said with a frown.

 

“I’m …I don’t know.“ Mickey didn’t even wait for his sister to talk back, he went to his room and crashed on his bed. He closed his eyes and tugged at his bottom lip as if he could still feel Ian there.

 

“Amazing.“ He whispered before drifting off to sleep, his clothes still on him and a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took so long but I'm writing a MA thesis and I have absolutely no time. This could have been better but I couldn't wait posting it. I will write more I promise, I actually already know what I want to do with this. I hope you have a kink for soulmate AU and everything it means because I'm definitely going there. 
> 
> Pens (alex) , will you be my beta partner for the next chapters? say yes pleeeeeassseee ? 
> 
> Let me know what you think guys!


	4. Blue is the warmest color

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long but you know... life
> 
> Big thanks to my beta gurl, Alex. You're the best, waking up with pictures of Gallavich on my phone is definitely my favourite way to wake up <3

Since Ian moved in LA, his life was pretty simple: he’d wake up in the morning around 6am, he’d drink a glass of OJ before putting his sneakers on and going for a run. He’d come back home sweaty, take a shower, drink a cup of coffee and head out to work.

 

_Every single fucking morning._

 

So yeah, his life was pretty simple, but it was also a little bit too easy. The gym was great, his employees nice and efficient. Once in a while, he’d have a quick fuck with a guy staring at him not so subtly while training in a corner of the room. It was enough for now, but he knew deep down that it would not always be the case: Ian was a relationship kind of guy, despite never truly be in one (nope, Tom didn’t count). He knew that he wanted to get married some day, have kids maybe and go home every night to a guy he’d love and who’d love him back. Yeah, Ian could be a fucking Disney princess when he wanted. He loved sappy shit, sue him.

 

The problem was, every time a guy he hooked up with asked for a date or even a second fuck, he cut it right away. He wanted to be with someone, really did, but every time he’d refuse because of something stupid. Or someone maybe…

 

It had been 2 years now since that night in New York and Ian still couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, Mickey would barge through the door of his gym and ask for a membership, only to catch Ian’s eyes and start bargaining about the price, asking Gallagher if he could have a special discount. Among every scenario that Ian had made up in his mind, this one was his favorite; Mickey was cocky, charming, but still an asshole because Milkovich could be both cute and annoying. The scene would just happen as if they had met for coffee the day before and the tension that should float between two people who had not seen each other for two years would be nonexistent. Just like that, Mickey would once more pop into his life and turn his world upside down just because he could.

 

 

Ian tried to contact him after leaving for LA, but he had no success, basically because he didn’t even know where to look. He had tried to find him on Facebook, even searched for Mandy but nothing; the thing was that Mickey didn’t give a shit about Facebook and Mandy was there under a fake name, something stupid she came up with the girls at work. Mickey and Mandy Milkovich were just impossible to reach.

 

One night, he was closing the gym with one of the instructors when he spotted a guy from earlier staring at him from the terrace of the coffee shop across the street. Ian was no fool, he knew why the guy was there, lurking like a dog in heat, and after saying goodbye to his colleague, he nodded to the guy from afar and walked his way home. Five minutes after he had arrived, a knock on his door informed him that the sexy stranger had indeed followed him and that he was getting laid.

 

The strangest thing happened that night. Ian was now familiar with the weird feeling in his guts when he had sex with a stranger, and he had made peace with himself when sometimes images of icy blue eyes or tattooed knuckles popped into his mind. But that night the flashes he got were far too intense, too much clear and the touch of this man beneath him, no matter how hot he was, was making him sick. Unable to focus on what was going on, Ian forcefully pushed the guy away, making him tumble down to the floor. Oblivious to what was going on in Ian’s mind, the guy didn’t bother to ask questions when he saw that the redhead in front of him was silently crying. Ian refused to even look at him, so the guy simply gathered his stuff and exited the apartment, wondering what that was all about.

 

 

Ian didn’t move a bit after the stranger left; he actually felt so disgusted with himself that he didn’t find the strength to carry his body to the bathroom to clean up, even when all he wanted was to rub away the feeling of the other guy on his bare skin. He curled up in bed, brought the sheets to his shoulders and dozed off to sleep after a while, his eyes puffy and his heart aching.

 

The next day, he had an appointment with his therapist at 5pm so he let his team close the gym; twice a month he would meet with her and some kind of routine settled between him and his colleagues, a silent agreement. They knew where he was going and why, but it was something that was kept under the surface. Despite the good thing they all had going on working together, Ian was still the boss, and he was pretty terrifying when he wanted to be. A former employee, who had assumed that his puppy eyes meant he was somehow weak and compliant, made a comment about him being a nutcase; underestimating a Gallagher was probably the biggest mistake he had ever made. Maybe Ian lost control that day, he shouldn’t have punched the guy, but he wasn’t able to hold himself back. When the guy threatened to press charges, underlining the fact that there were witnesses (the whole staff was present), he didn’t expect them to shrug and turn around with a “nope, I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” or a “I wasn’t even here.”

 

 

He decided to go to doctor Shankland’s office by foot and soon he arrived in front of the wide glass doors of her building. He didn’t go in right away, instead he lit a cigarette to calm his nerves because he knew this session was about to be intense, hence the smoke he borrowed from a stranger on his way there. He was taking long drags on it to calm himself down, but even the nicotine seemed to be useless; Ian was on edge and there was nothing he could do about it these days. He finally got to the filter and threw it away before going in, nervous as hell and a knot in his stomach that he hated. The receptionist, a girl named Karen, nodded when she saw him and didn’t even stop him from going further: Ian was a regular. Same time, same day, same protocol for two years now. When he finally arrived in front of his therapist’s office, he knocked twice and entered, knowing that she was waiting for him.

 

 

“ Hey, Ian! How are you?”

 

 

Doctor Shankland stood up to pull Ian into a hug and the stress he felt right before going in vanished a little, because this place, against all odds, was safe. Maya Shankland was, despite being small and skinny, a very charismatic woman. There was something in her air that inspired respect and wit, something that Ian appreciated very much. When he moved to LA, finding an accredited therapist had not been an easy thing: he had several appointments that ended up with the doctor losing his cool and Ian rolling his eyes like he was the one analyzing a patient.

 

One day, he finally met her and something clicked between the two of them: she was smart, sweet and funny, professional and practical. The fact that she was pretty much is age, only a couple of years older was definitely a good thing too, because he felt like she could understand things about him that the other therapists, all in their fifties, could never begin to grasp. She reminded him of Debbie sometimes, when she would look at him with softness in her eyes but also Fiona when he knew he was pushing her on the edge of patience; in these moments, she knew how to pull out the lecturing act like no one. She was his therapist but she was his friend too, someone he could trust, someone who, for inexplicable reasons, had the ability to see right through him. They never hung out together outside of the office, there needed to be some boundaries, but they knew that they could count on each other. Ian plopped onto the couch right in front her lazily and took a deep breath.

 

“I’m fine.” He said with a little pout.

 

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem like it.”

 

He gave her the eye before rubbing his temple slowly; this woman was unbelievable. Doctor Shankland finally sat on her couch and inspected Ian with a reassuring smile. Ian knew what she was doing, but he reminded himself that it was her job to make sure he was fine; the fact that she could detect almost instantly that something was off turned out to be quite impressive every time it happened.

 

“To be honest, there maybe are a few things that… make me feel… kinda weird.”

 

She looked at him quizzically, obviously waiting for him to elaborate, but Ian just let his eyes wander everywhere as he slowly tapped his fingers tips on his thighs. It was her time to pout apparently: she crossed her arms against her chest, clearly annoyed.

 

“Ian, you need to open up to me, tell me what’s on your mind. Usually that’s what people do in therapy.”

 

When Ian finally looked up, she was giving him a reassuring smile that instantly put him at ease.

 

“Do you remember when we started this, I talked to you about a guy named Mickey?”

 

“Isn’t that the guy you spent your last night in New York with?”

 

“Yep.” He replied while fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

 

“What about him?” Maya asked curiously.

 

“I kinda… dream about him. Like a lot.”

 

“Okay. You need to be a little more specific here. What do you dream about?”

 

“I… Just him. Sometimes it’s just body parts, like his eyes or his hands, I don’t know. Sometimes, he’s doing things like shopping and stuff. It’s weird.”

 

She looked at Ian intrigued, and started biting at her nails, something she does when she is in deep thinking. She was staring at him intensely and Ian knew that she was no fool.

 

“Is it recent? I mean, you haven’t seen him in like two years. Why do you think you’re dreaming about him now?”

 

**Here we go**

 

“That’s the thing actually… I’ve had these dreams for a long time now. It’s just that they were somehow blurry, I couldn’t even remember what he did in these ones. But lately, they are, like, much more frequent. And clearer?”

 

“How come you’ve never talked to me about this?”

 

“Don’t you think it’s lame? I’ve spent one night with the guy and I’ve been dreaming about him for two fucking years, it’s pathetic.”

“Watch your tongue when you’re in my office, Gallagher.”

 

“Sorry ma’am.”

 

Doctor Shankland bit her nails again, certainly trying to unveil the mystery between the dreams when Ian spoke again.

 

“There’s more though.”

 

“How so?”

 

“I sometimes feel bad when I see other people, when I have sex with them. I feel like I’m cheating on him.”

 

Ian sighed deeply and brought his right foot under his left thigh, looking down at his hands.

 

“How lame is that, right?”

 

He didn’t want to look at her, but usually she’d say something to reassure him, to prove him wrong, but no, this time she was just silent, much to Ian’s discomfort. When he finally glanced up at her, the look on his therapist’s face made Ian flinch for a second and he deeply regretted making the confession. Doctor Shankland was frowning, a hand on her chin, her expression indecipherable.

 

“You know what? We don’t have to-“

 

“Would you tell me about that night again? As detailed as possible.”

 

Ian was surprised and frowned for a second, not sure if she was being serious or if she was making fun of him. Finally, he told her everything he remembered about that night as accurately as he could without effort because he remembered every single detail vividly and there was nothing Ian liked more than thinking about that night. Talking about Mickey, even if they really didn’t know each other, soothed him for some reason. He felt relaxed when talking about him and his demeanor showed it, something that didn’t go unnoticed: At this point his therapist was pretty sure she had never seen Ian talking about someone with so much softness. His smiles were shy and yet sincere, she could see the twinkle in his eyes and the way he bit his lower lip to contain the smirk when talking about the sex. Something was festering here and she was positive she knew what it was about.

 

“You told me earlier that you felt bad after being with someone else… How is that?”

 

“Yeah it’s like I’m completely disconnected. I’m there, but not really, I feel like I’m watching things happen from above, it’s weird. I feel nothing in the moment, but after I’m feeling cranky and I don’t like it. You think it could be the meds?”

 

“Could be. Your moods fluctuate much?”

 

Reliving last night’s events in his head but not willing to talk about that right away, Ian just nodded at his therapist, hoping that it could be enough for now. He didn’t feel like describing to her all the times he had just felt down these past few weeks, but he could not lie to her either. Ian Gallagher wasn’t weak, but that didn’t mean he was made of steel; he could suck it up when needed, but he knew deep down that he wasn’t okay. He had not realized that the woman in front of him had stood up to come sit beside him on the patient’s couch. She placed a gentle hand on his and smiled at him.

 

“We are going to take care of it, together. You’ve been on this dosage for a while now, but nothing’s permanent, you know. We’ll just have to figure it out.”

 

Ian nodded again and threw his head against the back of the couch, eyes closed. He finally turned his head to look at her, only to catch the way she was inspecting him, as if she was trying to find the one thing that escaped her.

 

“What?” Ian asked.

 

“Nothing.” The answer was a little too fast and if the way she pursed her lips was any indication, Ian knew she was lying.

 

“Come on now. You’re making the face.”

 

“The face?” She said, trying to look as innocent as possible.

 

“Yeah, that thing you do when you are afraid to say something. Haven’t seen it for a while actually, not since my last episode.” He said, not looking at her.

 

“I don’t think I should. I mean, as your therapist and a medical professional, I should not, that’s for sure.”

 

She bit her lower lip, and Ian thought that she was adorable, she looked like a teenager about to reveal she had a crush. Ian straightened in his place and crossed his arms against his chest, eyebrows high on his forehead and a smile tugged at his lips: He was definitely very much intrigued. Aware that she was not getting away with this, doctor Shankland cleared her throat and went back to her spot in front of Ian.

 

“First, you have to know that this might be the craziest thing I’ll ever say to you and I want you to know that I’m telling you this not as your doctor, but as someone who had an interest in the phenomenon.”

 

Ian’s therapist made a pause that she somehow expected to be dramatic, but all she had in response was Ian rolling his eyes at her and growling in exasperation.

 

“Back when I was in college, my roommate and I got real close. Her name was Sarah. Great girl, very reliable, sweet, the kind of woman who succeeds in whatever she starts. Few months before graduation she met a guy, his name was Idriss. His family was from Mali, but he was born in the US and he studied here to become a journalist. They were deeply in love, you know? The kind of couple that makes you cringe because there’s so cute, it’s exhausting.”

 

“I really, really don’t get where this is going.” Ian was now comfortably set up on the couch, his fist under his chin and his full attention on Maya despite the fact that she was making zero sense.

 

 

“I’m getting there. At some point of his career, Idriss was approached by Reuters to go to Mali to document what was going on between the ethnic groups and the conflict between Muslims and Christians. He worked there with some people from the French military forces as an embedded journalist. He died over there when the violence escalated.”

 

A bleak silence settled between her and Ian, who was now even more confused about why she was telling him all this.

 

“The day he died, I was with her. We were having lunch and we were laughing and all of a sudden, she went white as death and she started crying and I had no idea what was going and she was just… unstoppable. Nothing I said began to remotely comfort her, it was awful and between sobs she took my hand and said, “he’s gone.” She repeated that all day, even when I put us in a cab to go to her place, when I laid her down so she could rest somehow. I stayed that night, obviously, and tried to figure out what she had. After all I was a brand new therapist, I should have been capable of detecting what it was about her. But I couldn’t. Nothing made sense and I was hopeless until her phone rang, and it was Idriss’ mother, telling me that he was dead.”

 

“How… could she know? I mean, that’s just not… What are you saying?”

 

“I’m sure that you are aware that the scientific community is a very elitist and rough group of people. Very condescending too. Some field of study are just very neglected and it has been that way for a long time.”

 

Ian couldn’t help but think about “The big bang theory” and how Sheldon Cooper always had so much disdain for every scientist who wasn’t into physics.

 

“What’s your point?”

 

“When I was still a student, I read an article about a woman called Jena Anderson. She was a sociologist, worked for years on gender studies, a brilliant woman. One day, out of the blue, she just disappeared and for years no one knew where she was. When she came back into the research world 6 years after, she had apparently changed her object of study and decided to focus on a possible link that she assumed existed between two people that basically makes them soulmates.”

 

Ian couldn’t hold back a laugh but quickly stopped when he glanced up at his therapist who didn’t seem to find the story even remotely funny.

 

“Turns out Anderson was in India. She based her theory on Buddhism and studied the Sanskrit, and what it meant… She considered that once these two people have met, they reached a state called “sattva”, a state of harmony, a perfect balance. From this moment, they are bound and so are capable of feeling the other.”

 

“That’s bullshit”.

 

He didn’t want to, he really didn’t, but Ian was pretty sure he had just reached his maximum of crap right now.

 

“I can even begin to understand why you, above all people, would believe in something so… I don’t know.”

 

“You weren’t there. You didn’t see what I saw. How Idriss and Sarah were together-“

 

“It’s called LOVE, Maya. Just… love. Why do you do need to find some supernatural bullshit to justify something that no one can explain? That’s insane.”

 

 

“I don’t think it is. I won’t try to convince you, but I believe in it. Anderson spent 13 years working on that, even though she knew she was never going to be published, and yet she never stopped. She organized focus groups, met with people all around the world to prove it. There got to be some truth in it. She basically threw away her career, her reputation, for it.”

 

Ian sighed and rubbed his eyes with his palms, trying to figure out if his therapist was losing it right in front of him when suddenly something popped in his mind.

 

“Wait. What does it have to do with me?”

 

Maya hunched in discomfort and bit at her nails furiously, avoiding Ian’s gaze.

 

“What are you saying, huh? That Mickey is my soulmate?” Ian huffed a laugh because this was ridiculous. Soulmate, really?

 

“There’s no such thing, come on.”

 

Ian was looking at her, lips in a thin line, his expression both worried and scared, maybe? In the real world, that kind of thing doesn’t happen. It was irrational, stupid and completely impossible.

 

Sensing that she was not coming back to her senses, Ian sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, thinking hard about what she implied. He was slowly coming to the realization that she wasn’t messing with him and for some obscure reason, the fact that the woman he trusted the most besides his siblings could give credit to such a thing enacted something irrational in him. Hope maybe, that he wasn’t going crazy. That, for some inexplicable reason, dreaming about Mickey, constantly comparing him to the guys he hooked up with wasn’t so weird after all. More importantly, it had nothing to do with his disorder.

 

“You **do** believe in it, don’t you?” He whispered.

 

“I don’t know, maybe. Maybe because I’m a hopeless romantic, or maybe because I’m full of shit, who knows? But the thing is, it just sounds so similar and I don’t know, I… I’m sorry I shouldn’t have told you all of this, it was a mista-“

 

“Where can I find it?” He asked abruptly.

 

“You won’t be able to find it yourself, like I said it has never been published.” She closed her eyes for a second and sighed deeply, wondered if she was making yet another mistake. “But if you really want to take a look at it, I can find a way to obtain it, ask for a copy at the university where she presented her thesis. It has never been validated by the scientific community, but they have the obligation to archive the thesis.”

 

 

“Okay, then. I’ll read it.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO?


	5. Can't help thinking about you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took so long to update!  
> Now that this (awful) year is over, I promise to update more frequently.  
> the next 3 chapters are already planned so :)

It was Saturday, and Ian was lazily lying on his couch, watching the latest episode of Game of thrones. He woke up a little low, probably his new medication settling down, and he felt like doing nothing all day.

He forced himself to eat something, not to spend the entire day with an empty stomach, and crashed on his couch with the firm intention on moving only if necessary.

It’s been ten days since his appointment with doctor Shankland and all he could think about was the thesis she brought up. Even if Maya had convinced him of its reality during their session, Ian could not help but question her sanity with each day passing.

He really wanted some of it to be true, but he never was into that kind of thing; the idea of two people destined to each other was sweet, he had to admit that. But seriously, who believes in that kind of thing?

 

A loud bang on TV brought his attention back to reality and he shook his head, a little annoyed with himself. He let out a long sigh and grabbed a cushion to hold it tight against his chest to find a little comfort.

He really needed to start focusing on something else than the thesis, otherwise he was pretty sure he was going to lose it.

He was thinking about calling Lip to check up on him when someone buzzed at the door. Ian perked up from his seat and went to unlock the door, ending up face to face with a delivery guy holding a box close to his chest.

 

“Yeah?”

“Hey, I got a package for Ian Gallagher?” the guy said.

 

Ian frowned, wondering who was sending something to him (only Debbie did that, and she always warned him beforehand), but he took the box the man was handing him and secured it under his arm.

 

“Here you go.” The delivery guy took a digital notepad from his back pocket. “I need a signature here and we’re good.”

 

Ian quickly took the device from his hand and signed before giving it back. He thanked the delivery guy and closed the door, already ripping the box open with both hands. Once he was settled in his couch again, he opened it eagerly. The box contained a big file and a note, written by Doctor Shankland.

  

_Ian,_

_I Promised I’d send it if I could. See you next week._

_M.Shankland_

Ian shivered in anticipation, knowing exactly what the file was. He tossed the box away and opened the document eagerly. He took a deep breath and started reading.

 

_October, 2007_

_This thesis is an attempt at understanding a phenomenon ignored by our contemporary societies. Despite traces of its veracity in literature, history and even sociology, the researches have always neglected to explore the hypothesis of living soulmates._

_This reluctance at studying such a complicated subject probably comes from the difficulty that lies in organizing trustworthy study groups and inquiries._

_This work had been made possible by a thorough examination of over 245 couples, strictly chosen to participate after multiple series of tests and interviews to determine whether or not they were viable subjects._

_From January 1992 to September 2005, I, Jane Anderson, conducted a study to prove the existence of soulmates. This belief is rooted in the Indian folklore; theorized centuries before western civilizations even thought about it. The very concept of a soul so compatible with another that a powerful connection can be born is very integrated in the Indian culture. Therefore, it is where the first inquiries where conducted._

_In the Indian culture, each living soul has a matching one. The ancient Indian tales, especially those that are supposed to explain the romantic experiences on Earth, are based on the fact that no one should face the ups and downs of this world alone. Therefore, a person who hasn’t met her or his soulmate is called Ajnani, which means the ignorant, as opposed to_ _Jnani, the one who knows._

_As long as the Ajnani hasn’t find his or her other half, it is considered that the person is stuck in what we call Tma (the obscurity) but can extricate herself/himself from it by meeting his/her true match and then reach sattva, the perfect state. The Ajnani becomes then Jnani and is not defined as a single being anymore but as a duality, the two Jnani becoming kundalini (together)._

Ian read the first hundred pages in one go before throwing the thesis on the side of the couch; he sighed deeply and dragged his body to his bed to get some sleep. He was exhausted and also a bit confused, because finally reading Anderson’s thesis wasn’t what he expected.

If he was honest, there were similarities, accurate descriptions of things he had experienced. But the more he read, the more he thought this was just a joke. It seemed more like a crazy project, where the Indian culture was mixed with doubtful methods of investigations leading to fake theories.

 He wanted to believe doctor Shankland, rely on this crazy idea to explain why he had been so out lately, but this wasn’t it. The answers he was looking for wasn’t in this thesis, and it was time to deal with it.

He curled up in his bed and brought the sheets up to his face, not sure if he’d find the motivation to get out of bed the next morning.

**…**

 

When Mickey woke up this morning, Mandy could instantly tell that her brother was having a bad day. He walked out of his room only wearing boxers and barged into the kitchen, not even looking at her.

He went straight to the fresh pot of coffee, poured himself a mug and went back to his room with a slam of a door and _a fucking grunt_. She rolled her eyes and put her mug in the sink, wondering what got him so cranky. On her way to the bathroom, she couldn’t help but flip her finger at Mickey’s closed bedroom door.

 

Mickey wasn’t cranky, he was pissed. He’d spent the worst night since he and Mandy left his father’s house and that was saying something. He’d rolled in bed every five minutes, brooding for no apparent reason and scowling at himself for all the coffee he drank.

There was something else though, a weird, lingering feeling in his stomach that wouldn’t go. He couldn’t figure what was making feel so empty when everything was going so good for him these days.

Six months ago, he got fired from the dinner after he saw a guy groping Mandy and he lost his shit, but it was for the best. He found another job a couple of weeks after the incident and it was much better than what he expected. The pay was good, his co-workers not so lame and his boss had a soft spot for him. Seriously everything was fine.

 

Okay maybe one thing was bothering him, but it wasn’t a big deal.

**Liar.**

For a couple months now, Mickey had absolutely no sex drive. Like none. He tried to hook up with a guy one night after Mandy threw him out to have the apartment to herself, because she apparently needed some “me time”.

 Mickey was pretty sure this was the code for someone coming over and he wasn’t fond of listening to his sister banging all night. So he cleaned up nice and went to a gay bar and hoped for a nice and quick fuck.

After an hour drinking on his own, he finally spotted a guy; he spent a good hour eye fucking him from afar before he headed towards the bathroom, pretty sure the guy was following.

Once in the stall, the guy didn’t even talk and unbuckled Mickey’s belt. He started stroking him fast and rough, and Mickey wanted to be into it, but no, nothing. After a moment, the guy finally looked up and stared at Mickey quizzically. He was about to say something, but Mickey had no intention to go down that road and just got out of the bathroom.

He quickly grabbed the jacket he had left on his stool and walked out of the bar, cursing under his breath. That was the first time it happened.

 

After a few episodes like that, Mickey just gave up; he could still rub one off himself, he just couldn’t do it with a guy right now. He briefly wondered if his fucking father succeeded in getting into his head from prison or wherever the fucker was, but didn’t believe it for a second really.

Mickey was gay, and he had made peace with that a long time ago. Since he wasn’t really the type of guy to overanalyze things, he just decided he was in a bad phase and that it’d pass eventually. The problem was, eventually was becoming a very long time.

 

He finished his cup of coffee and went to shower before going to work. He cursed under his breath when he entered the steamed bathroom and saw Mandy’s clothes scattered on the floor; his sister was even worse than him.

He took a quick shower and shaved before getting dressed and leaving the apartment. Before going out, he took a look at the time and he realized he was going to be late; this day was definitely going to be hell on him.

 **...**

Five hours later, Mickey was finally allowed a smoke break. He went outside to light a cigarette and exhaled deeply as the nicotine hit his system. The restaurant was full these days, and tonight was no exception. The chef was shouting orders like an animal and everyone was on the rush, running everywhere to make the orders.

Mickey was so exhausted he could barely stand on his feet and he couldn’t figure out how he was going to finish his shift. He threw the butt of his smoke on the ground and went back with slumped shoulders.

The rest of the day went without any major mistakes on his part and only some barking from the chef. Mickey couldn’t stop staring at the clock above the kitchen door though; he got so distracted at some point that he didn’t realize he had slipped on a wet patch until his ass was on the ground. A stinging pain in his hand got him back to reality and he watched his bloody hand absentmindedly as his boss wrapped a dirty towel around it.

“Mickey? Mickey! Come on man!”

 

Mickey finally looked up at his boss and took the hand he was offering to get him to stand.

 

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been out of it all day!”

 

Mickey didn’t answer; he was feeling sick and even if he was familiar with physical pain, his hand hurt like a bitch.

 

“What happened?” He croaked out.

 

“You held the glass too tight man, exploded in your hand when you fell on your ass, that’s what happened! Are you feeling alright?”

“I…yeah, I guess. “

“Just go home, your shift is almost over anyway. And take care of your hand!” The chef shouted as he went back to his orders.

 

Mickey exhaled deeply and tightened the homemade bandage on his hand, leaving his mess to be taken care of by someone who could actually function properly. He grabbed his stuff and got out of the restaurant, still confused and disconnected, as if someone had punched him in the face several times.

 

He went home as fast as he could and headed directly towards the bathroom, not even answering Mandy when she asked about his day. He heard her shout that he was “a fucking asshole today,” but he couldn’t care less. It was a bad day, a really fucking bad one and he just needed it to be over.

After he cleaned up his cut, he splashed some water on his face and went to his bedroom.The cut wasn’t profound enough to need stitches, but it still hurt like hell. He got cut on his right hand, right under his thumb, next to the tendon. If it had been closer, it could have been far worse that that, he had been lucky it wasn’t sectioned.

 _Another scar_ , he thought. He finally stopped staring at it and took off his clothes, got into his bed and closed his eyes, wondering what the hell was going on with him.

The night was apparently going to be the same as the last one, but Mickey was having none of that. He rubbed his eyes and sat on the edge of his bed; his phone was on his bedside table so he grabbed it to see the time.

 

3am. _Great_.

 

He went to the living room and turned on the TV, lowering the volume not to wake Mandy up. He took the little wood box he and Mandy used to put the weed in and rolled a joint, hoping it would calm his nerves.

He thought about adding a glass of something strong with, but decided against it. He still had to be up early in the morning, since he was pretty sure he promised to go grocery shopping with Mandy before work.

He smoked his joint slowly, enjoying every drag and finally relaxed a bit. He still didn’t know why he felt so anxious these days and he was starting to get tired of it. Mickey was not the cheeriest person but this wasn’t his usual self either. He lay down on the couch, his feet propped higher on the arm and closed his eyes.

He remembered Mandy talking about the relaxing techniques she learned when she was still seeing her therapist. After they moved in New York, she confessed to her brother that their father used to come to her room some nights, completely drunk off his ass and Mickey thought seeing someone was the best solution.

He had no clue how to help his sister get over the fact that their father had hurt her so bad, and he didn’t really believe in therapy, but Mandy had some pretty bad panic attacks when they finally settled in their apartment. She needed help from someone who knew what he was doing and the sessions had been helping. Mandy would probably never be completely alright, but at least she had the chance to talk to someone.

 

Mickey placed his hands on his belly and exhaled deeply; he tried to clear his mind and think about the things that made him happy. He had Mandy, he had a great job and he was fucking good at it. Who would have thought that Mickey Milkovich, the guy who lived on pop tarts and pizza bagels, could actually cook?

He kept doing the exercises Mandy had showed him for almost twenty minutes until he felt better and then he brought a hand to his chest, massaging it for a while until he felt like he could finally find some sleep.

He whispered to himself _you gonna be alright, it’s alright_ like a mantra until the thought finally sunk in and he felt himself drifting off to sleep. He let his hand press against his heart as if he could slow down his heartbeat with his touch and hoped for the next day to be less eventful; he just needed a break. He was fine.

 

**…**

 

Ian was staring at his ceiling, millions of thoughts going through his mind. He didn’t go to work that day, he was feeling too depressed to get out of bed and he regretted reading the thesis doctor Shankland had sent.

However, for the first time that day, he felt calmer. He was still feeling antsy and he didn’t particularly want to go to work the next day, but he knew he would.

Doctor Shankland used to tell him when he was feeling down that he needed to convince himself that the next day would always be simpler if he gave it a chance, that life was full of prospects and that he couldn’t let the depression take over. If he wasn’t capable of doing that himself though, she would always be a phone call away. He didn’t need to get to her right now; the worst part was over, he could tell.

He pressed his hand on his chest a little tighter and closed his eyes, wondering what dragged him out of the water this time. If he dreamt of icy blue eyes and chapped pink lips mixed with noises in the background he couldn’t really decipher, he couldn’t care less about what it meant; for some reason it made him feel good.

…

 

Three days after receiving Anderson’s thesis, Ian was going home after work and he was feeling much better; going back to work helped a lot, being surrounded by people and his staff, his mind focused on work. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and after checking the id caller, he answered with a smile. It was Rick, the manager of the gym in New York.

They were pretty close when they were working together, close enough for Ian to leave him in charge of the gym. He would have never left this place to a stranger, but Rick was a good friend and a great worker, and Ian knew he could rely on him.

 

“Hey man.” Ian cheered.

“Hi, Ian! How are you?“

 

Ian made his way home with Rick on the phone and the other man told him how things were going in New York and which changes he made at the gym. Ian was happy to have news from his friend, but he could feel this phone call wasn’t just random.

 

“So what else is new?” he asked perkily.

 

“Well, I finally asked Robin to marry me so there’s that.” Rick said nonchalantly.

 

“Man, that’s amazing, congrats! I’m very happy for you. Just hold on a second.”

 

Ian finally got to his apartment so he put Rick on hold to unlock his door and throw his jacket on one of the kitchen’s chairs. He went to the fridge and grabbed a soda before sitting down.

 

“Where were we? Ah yes, congrats man! Fucking finally!”

 

“Yeah, I know, finally had the guts to propose. I hope you’ll come to the wedding, I need to have some back up, Robin’s family is not so fond of me…Anyway, there’s something… well, something else I’d like to ask you… She wants to move back to LA so I was hoping you could maybe give me a job? For old time’s sake?“ His tone was a little unsure at the end of the sentence but Rick already knew the answer.

 

“Well, I’d have to interview you first, but I’m pretty sure I can do something about that, being the boss and all.” Ian said ironically.

 

“Speaking of interviews, I figured you’d want to get your ass back here and help me with getting a new manager. We can’t leave your first born to a total stranger, can we?”

 

“Definitely not. Besides, I remember you scaring the shit out of that boy when we were looking for a new trainer, I’m not letting you do that on your own.” Ian said with a laugh.

 

“I hate interviews, man. When you coming?”

 

Ian gripped his phone tighter as the excitation hit him hard and he had a huge grin plastered on his face; he told Rick he would come to New York the next weekend, asked him to start spreading the news that they were hiring, but he would take the matter into his own hands once he had gotten there.

He congratulated him one last time about the future wedding and ended the call, his stupid smile still persisting.

 

Going to New York would probably be good for him; maybe he could spend some time with Lip if he wasn’t abroad on some business trip and he could always try to see Mickey.

He remembered Mickey telling him he worked in a gay club in Soho and he still remembered where the dinner was. He could also go to Charlie’s bar, where Mickey had brought him that night. Charlie could help him ~~track down~~ find Mickey.

 

Soulmates or not, Ian had spent too much time thinking about Mickey not to jump on the occasion of seeing him again. He didn’t know if he idealized the other man or if he was truly as great as Ian remembered, but he was ready to take the chance. He really, really wanted to see Mickey again, and he could finally make it happen, so…

 

He finished his drink and put the can in the trash when he noticed a scar on his right hand he hadn’t noticed before. The scar was swollen and pink, it seemed fresh but Ian didn’t remember getting it.

He shrugged the thought away and went on with his nightly routine, not even caring how he got it. When he plopped on his couch later with his plate on his lap and ready to binge watch Daredevil, he glanced at the thesis next to him with the big, printed characters on the cover. He put down his fork so he could turn the file over and got started on his show.

This soulmate thing was bullshit, he didn’t need to know more.

 **...**

_It is very difficult to evaluate the consequences on the soulmate after the bond was created. The study conducted showed, however, that the effects depend on the personality of the soul. As long as the soulmate is kept close, the consequences are mostly good. The two souls being intrinsically linked, there is an unspoken understanding between them, keeping the perfect state on a harmonious balance._

_On the contrary, if the souls are separated, they reject the distance and find ways to manifest the inner suffering. One soul can feel the other’s distress and have an impact on it._

_The only element that allows us to confirm that the two souls are indeed connected is that during the time the two souls are apart, the physical injuries happening to one soul appear on both bodies. The explanation we propose is the most satisfying we came to produce this far: because of the lack of emotional connection, the souls rely on the body to express itself. Two souls having experimented the sattva (perfect state) cannot be satisfied with not living in it. Only the return of the sattva can ease the soul and make possible the exit of the Tma (obscurity)._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are interested, the indian concepts I used are very real. Of course I twisted them a bit for this fic but the meaning of the words are the same and it's pretty fascinating. I hope you liked it!
> 
> Alex, my beta fairy (yes beta fairy) thank you so much for your work on this <3


	6. With a lil' bit of luck

A few days after Rick called, Ian was on a plane to New York, buckling his seat belt as the last passengers took their seats under the stewards’ scrutiny. Lip told him on the phone that he was in the city for a couple of days, so he would come pick him up at the airport. Ian was glad his brother was in town for once; he didn’t particularly want to spend the entire week alone. Even if Rick would probably be available to go and get a drink one of these nights, the guy was about to get hitched and surely had plenty of things to take care of.

 

The thrill he had felt after Rick’s call was slowly dissipating, and he wondered more than once in the past few days if he was really going to look for Mickey. He was a living contradiction these days, his mind alternating between true resolve, fed by this strangely loud voice telling him he had to see Mickey, and this shaky, unsure whispers, repeating again and again _you are a freak. Leave the poor guy alone. He won’t remember you, why do you care?_

Despite the dark thoughts filling his head sometimes, there was one thing Ian was sure of and that didn’t depend on seeing Mickey again: Mickey had showed a soft side that night, and it was for no one but him. Mickey was not forthcoming with other people, hell Ian was pretty sure he was more likely to be a difficult person on a daily basis. Ian smiled at the memory of Mickey swearing almost constantly, the hard looks when someone made a stupid comment, the threatening aura he sported.

 

But Mickey had been all but that with Ian; the touches were gentle, the smiles soft and genuine. The few hours they spent together while Charlie was bartending let Ian see that duality; it was like there was two Mickey in there. The one capable of breaking every fucking knuckle on your hand to prove his point, and the one that kissed Ian so tenderly it made his stomach churn in a delightful way. The one who writhed under him when they fucked, his icy blue eyes fixed on Ian’s face, their intensity sending shivers down Ian’s spine.

  

He thought about his last session then, how he lied to doctor Shankland shamelessly; he told her he didn’t get the chance to read the thesis because of work and moved the discussion from that to his trip to New York. His therapist seemed a little bummed, but she didn’t push and let go of the matter pretty quickly. Ian told her that he felt better these days, more stable and she was glad to know that his meds were effective.

 

When the plane took off, he put his iPod on shuffle and drifted off to sleep quickly, wondering if he was actually going to go looking for Mickey once in New York.

 

…

 

Ian was outside of the airport, surrounded by a crowd of people hugging and kissing, trying to catch a cab to get home or whatever. He finally escaped them all and looked around to catch of glimpse of Lip’s car, but his brother was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, a black Sedan pulled up in front of him and Ian lowered himself as the driver opened the window slowly.

 

“Hey, little brother!” Lip greeted with a smug smile.

 

Ian smiled widely and ran around the car to throw his bag in the trunk. He hopped in and hugged his brother tight, and Lip ruffled his hair a bit because he knew Ian hated it. Ian punched him in the arm and laughed as Lip fainted to be offended, but started the engine anyway, driving away from the airport and towards the city.

 

They hadn’t seen each other in months, not since Christmas at the Gallagher’s, where Fiona stilled lived with Liam. When Lip mentioned Fiona and the kids, Ian felt guilty for not visiting more; even if things got better for the siblings since Ian and Lip had made it, he knew it wasn’t enough to just send money. But sometimes staying apart was easier for Ian. It’s been ten years now since his first episode and the crushing news of him being bipolar, just like Monica.

 

They didn’t treat him like he was broken anymore, but the looks they exchanged sometimes, the worry in Fiona’s face when they talked about therapy still made him cringe. So he called, came back home for birthdays and holidays, but that was it. It was easier with Lip though, because they lived together for a while and he witnessed Ian getting his shit together, accepting his bipolar disorder. He watched his little brother grow from it; Ian was fucking brave, always had been, even in the worst moments and Lip felt immensely proud.

 

They chatted animatedly during the whole drive with only a few silences as Ian stared outside, engrossed by the hundreds of people walking down the street, probably going to bars and parties like any Friday night. When Lip pulled up in front of their old building, Ian was strangely excited. Now that he was there, he realized how much he missed living with his brother. Lip parked the car and got Ian’s bag from the trunk after throwing the keys to his brother with a grin and a ‘welcome home buddy’.

 

The apartment was exactly the same, something Ian appreciated, making him feel like he never really left. Lip dumped Ian’s bag in his old room and came back to the living room, where Ian was waiting for him with two beers in hand, grinning like an idiot. They ordered Chinese food and put the TV on but they didn’t pay attention to what was on, much too caught up in their conversation about their family.

 

“I’m going to Chicago on Sunday, have a business meeting on Monday so I figured, why not stay for a couple of days.” Lip said as he grabbed his pack of smokes. Ian was eyeing him cautiously, knowing that his brother hoped he would tag alone.

 

“You’ll tell them I miss them, okay? I would have come, but I’m here for business, it’s not like I came here for the pleasure of seeing your ugly face.” Ian snickered. It got him a punch in the ribs.

 

The food finally arrived and they ate in a content silence and drank another beer (well, Ian didn’t since he couldn’t drink that much) until Lip stretched out and told Ian he had to go to bed; he had a meeting the next day and still had work to do in the morning. It wasn’t even midnight and Ian decided to go out, for old time’s sake, just like when he went to clubs to pick up random guys to fuck. _You could go to the Industry,_ a little voice spoke up in his mind. _Maybe he’ll be there_. He took a quick shower and put on a white tee shirt, satisfied of the way it clung to his body, and headed out after saying goodbye to Lip.

 

…  


The club was exactly how he remembered it: flashes of lights were everywhere, hurting his eyes, and platforms all over the place where dancers shook their hips seductively, wearing only sparkly shorts and boots. It was like is heart was beating in sync with the music, and the thumps in his chest were almost painful. Also, the familiar scent of alcohol, sweat and cologne made him feel weird, memories of his own dancing career flashing behind his eyelids. He went straight to the bar and didn’t even flinch when he felt a hand squeezing his ass on the way there. He took a seat and nodded at the closest bartender, who came along, sizing Ian up and down appreciatively.

 

“What can I get you?” he said as he licked his lips.

 

“A beer, please.”

 

The bartender quickly placed one in front of Ian, but stayed there, his eyes still lingering on Ian’s body.

 

“Never saw you before” he finally said. “First time?”

 

“No, not the first. I used to come here before, when I still lived in the city.’ Ian answered before taking a sip of his beer.

 

‘Let me guess, California?” the bartender ask.

 

Ian looked up, actually impressed. “Yeah, how did you know?”

 

“I don’t know, man. You look like a model from those TV commercials, very LA. I am not complaining though.” he replied, jiggling his eyebrows a little.

 

Ian blushed slightly, but kept watching the guy with interest. Although, he quickly remembered why he was here in the first place.

 

“A friend of mine used to work here, maybe you know him? The name’s Mickey.”

 

 The bartender shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Worked here for a few months, never heard of a Mickey.”

 

Ian sighed and nursed his beer, cursing himself for believing it would be so easy to find Mickey. When he looked up, the bartender was gone; he threw money on the bar and left even if he had barely touched his beer. No need to stay here any longer. Mickey wasn’t there.

 

…

 

The next morning, Ian woke up before his alarm went off; he was so conditioned to take his meds every day at the same hour that the alarm was only set up in case he would oversleep, but it never happened. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes as he tried to enter the world of the living; he only had a few hours of sleep and right now, all he wanted to do was bury himself under the covers. But now that he was awake, there was no way he was going to sleep again.

 

He finally went into the apartment and realized quickly that Lip had already left. He started a pot of coffee, took his meds and had a long shower, hoping it would wake him up a little. He didn’t plan on going to the gym until Monday, Rick wasn’t even working on weekends, so he had the entire day to do whatever he wanted. After a quick breakfast, he put some clothes on and left the apartment. He quickly realized he felt a throbbing pain in his left shoulder; he didn’t remember getting punched or anything, so he just massaged it and decided to take a look at it after. He was so clumsy sometimes, he didn’t even care how he got it.

 

…  


“I swear to god Mandy, next time you do that, I’m gonna bash your head!” Mickey shouted. His sister’s laugh made him want to die so he just buried his face deeper in his pillow, hoping she would go away.

 

Mandy was hovering above Mickey, who was still in bed in nothing but his boxers. His annoying little sister was a bitch this morning and he thought that she was lucky they were related, otherwise she would already be dead. They were supposed to go to the store to buy food and alcohol for the party Mandy was throwing that night, _without his consent_ , and apparently Mandy had decided that they had to go at the first light of the day. She first shouted Mickey’s name repeatedly in an annoying sing song manner, and when she realized it wasn’t going to make her lazy brother wake up, she opened Mickey’s curtains as wide as possible, letting the sunshine in the tiny bedroom. She was only rewarded with a grunt from her brother and so she opted for something stronger; a violent punch in the shoulder.

 

“Wake the fuck up, asshole! We have to go to the store! Now!”

 

“I swear to god, I’mma-“

 

“Yeah, yeah, save the threats for people who are actually afraid of you. Chop chop, we’re leaving in fifteen minutes!”

 

Mickey begrudgingly followed her to the kitchen and took the mug of coffee she offered with a bright smile and a poptart. Mickey gave her his deadliest look and went back to his room to get ready, cursing under his breath.

 

This party was a bad idea, he didn’t want people walking around his apartment, sitting on his fucking couch and spilling alcohol all over the place. The only reason he hadn’t put up a fight with his sister was that she wanted to have this party to get to know his new co-workers better; she wanted to fit in and Mickey wasn’t going to take that from her.

A few months after Mickey got fired from the dinner, Mandy got her GED and she was now working for an event planning company. She seemed to blossom so much in her work that Mickey couldn’t find it in him to tell her to fuck off when she mentioned the party; he was just glad his sister was finally doing something she loved and was good at. It didn’t mean he loved to be woken up at the crack of dawn, dragged out of his bed and forced to welcome strangers into his apartment, or how he liked to call it, his fortress of solitude.

  

Mandy practically dragged him to the store, dancing and wandering in the isles, while Mickey pushed the cart with a sullen expression on his face, occasionally rolling his eyes at her enthusiasm. He only relaxed when they reached the isle full of alcohol, and Mickey grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels to go with his orange juice; he heard once that they mixed better than expected.

 

…

 

Ian spent the day walking around, enjoying the city he once lived in. He went to Central Park for a few hours, grabbed a bite at his favorite Italian place and then his feet unconsciously led him to West Village. He made a stop at the gym since he was in the neighborhood so he could take a look at the candidates he was going to interview on Monday. He also wanted to see the changes Rick had made since he left for LA. He spent almost two hours there, happy to see that Rick had done a great job with his “firstborn” like the other man called it. He finally left around 6pm, his stomach was rumbling and he felt a desperate need for a piece of lemon pie.

 

On his way home the previous night, Ian had decided that he wasn’t going to look for Mickey anymore; it just felt stupid, searching for a guy he hadn’t seen in two years, who probably didn’t give a shit about him. Yes, the sex had been great and he had never talked to someone else so freely about his life, his disorder, his family, but maybe it was just an illusion after all.

  

They both knew the chance of meeting again was small, inexistent even, and so they let themselves go a little further than usual because over sharing didn’t bring any consequences. Sometimes, talking to a perfect stranger about the things that eat you on a daily basis is much more easier than talking to the people you’re close to.

Usually it’s even refreshing to have someone’s point of view when they don’t know every single layer that makes you you. As far as Ian was concerned, that’s what happened that night: an opportunity to talk to someone who wouldn’t judge him, who wouldn’t hold a grudge against him for what he thought or felt; it just felt right and easy, like everything else with Mickey.

 

So when he finally looked up and realized he was in front of the dinner Mandy and Mickey were supposed to work, he sighed exasperatedly; how was it even possible that his fucked up brain loved to fuck up so much with him? He grabbed a cigarette from his pack (apparently New York made him smoke again) and smoked slowly, debating whether or not he was going in. When he finally tossed it away, he shrugged and thought “why the hell not” before opening the door of the dinner.

 

The place was pretty empty, only a couple of customers discarded in the booths here and there, so he sat where he sat the day he broke things off with Tom. A waitress quickly came to him to take his order and disappeared into the kitchen as fast as she came. When she came back with his coffee and his pie, Ian took the chance to ask her about Mickey.

 

“No, sorry we don’t have any Mickey.” She said before turning on her heels.

 

“Wait!” Ian called out. “What about a waitress, a brunette, blue eyes… hum, Mandy?”

 

The girl’s face lit up at the name and she came back trotting to Ian’s table.

 

“Yeah, I know Mandy. She actually trained me when I got here. She quit a few months ago though. Don’t know what she’s been up to these days, sorry.”

 

She gave her an apologetic smile and went back to work, leaving Ian a bit deflated after the rise of hope she provoked. He ate his pie slowly and finished his cup of coffee, and left a big tip for the waitress.

 

He chose to walk his way back to the apartment, the fresh air (well, as fresh as the New York air could be) lifting up his spirits a little after two-failed attempts at finding Mickey. He didn’t particularly want to see Charlie again, and frankly he didn’t want to drink that night; this little search of his had to come to an end.

 

He passed by Lip’s favorite pizza place and decided to take one home so he could settle on the couch later with his brother, drinking beer and maybe playing video games if Lip didn’t have too much work to do. He was standing in the line, checking his emails on his phone when he realized someone was watching him; his heart missed a beat as he recognized Mandy. she was staring at him with a playful smile, her head titled a bit as she sized him up and down. Surely, she had recognized him, his hair usually giving him away and so he returned the smile and gave a little, awkward wave in her direction. Mandy, who was pretty far in line behind him, bypassed everyone and strolled towards him as the customers cursed under their breaths.

 

“Hey, there!” She said as if she saw him the night before.

 

“Hey, Mandy.” Ian said with a shy smile.

 

“Fuck, you remember me, Red. I’m flattered.”

 

Ian laughed at the remark, pretty much the same as her brother threw at him the night before he left New York.

 

“Yeah I remember, Mickey talked about- I mean, huh-“

 

“Don’t get your pants all twisted up." She said with a smile. "I know you guys fucked, it's no biggie. Never thought he’d talked about me, though. Did he say I’m the greatest thing that happened to his miserable life?”

 

Ian was taken aback by Mandy’s bluntness for a second but quickly gathered himself and smiled smugly at her.

 

“Said you were a pain in the ass if I recall correctly.”

 

“That ungrateful fucker! I’m a ray of sunshine. Most of the time.”

 

It was finally their turn to order and Mandy asked for a dozen pizzas to deliver later in the night. He was about to ask why she needed so much food when Mandy spoke again.

 

“We’re having a little party tonight if you wanna come? It’ll be fun, I promise.”

 

The gods were severely messing with him, there was no other explanation.

 

“Sure, I’d love to.”

 

Mandy then took a napkin from the counter and scribbled the address, before the protests of the customers waiting in the line got too loud. As she left the place, she shouted in Ian’s direction “See you tonight, Red” before she disappeared into the waves of people in the street.

 

…

 

When Lip came back home, Ian was in his old room, with two shirts held against his chest. He was biting his lips, seriously considering which one he should wear tonight when Lip cleared his throat loudly to get his attention.

 

“What are you doing?” he said as he threw himself on the bed.

 

“I’m- I have a thing tonight and I don’t know what to wear.”

 

“A thing? Can I come?”

 

Lip didn’t miss the panic in his brother’s eyes, despite the fact that Ian was still staring at the mirror; he knew his brother too well not to notice the change in his demeanor.

 

“Relax, man, I was just kidding. Besides, I’m leaving tomorrow and I still have to prepare my presentation.” He sat on the edge of the bed, still staring at Ian with an inquisitive look.

 

“What is this ‘thing’ by the way?”

 

“Just a friend having a party.” Ian lied as he shrugged his shoulders.

 

Lip stood up and rolled his eyes, ready to leave the room with a “whatever”, when Ian grabbed his arm to stop it.

 

“It’s just a guy I met before I left… We hooked up and I ran into his sister this afternoon, said they were having a party. That’s all.”

 

“Ass that special?”

 

Ian went back to his drawer to take two other shirts and compare then, not looking at his brother. “You could say that…”

 

“Come on, who’s the mystery guy?” Lip asked, now standing behind Ian and looking at him in the mirror.

 

Ian hesitated for a second but finally relented. “Mickey Milkovich”.

 

Lip’s jaw dropped to the floor and Ian couldn’t hold his laugh.

 

“Mickey Milkovich? As in southside Milkoviches?”

 

“The one and only.”

 

“Fuck me, man! Never thought he was gay. I mean, I remember he used to bang Angie Zago and fagbash poor bastards with his father.” Lip paused for a second before adding “the sister was hot!”

 

“Yeah, well, you stay away from her, she’s a nice girl.”

 

“That’s so cute, you defending your future sister-in-law.”

 

Ian tried to spank his ass with one of the shirts but Lip avoided it and left the bedroom, his laughter echoing through the apartment. He came back a few minutes later with a light blue shirt and threw it at Ian’s face.

 

“Here, wear this. It's a little too large for me, anyway” He said with a smile.

 

…  


When Ian arrived at the place, the music could be heard from the hall; he quickly climbed up till the second floor and stayed a second there, not knowing if he should knock or not. He finally pushed it open, aware that nobody would hear with the music so loud and took a moment to take in the scene; the place was not very big but it was nice. There were people in every space available, laughing and drinking, chatting animatedly and even a group of people having a video game contest. He could barely hear his own thoughts with all the noise, but he felt at ease instantly. He tightened the grip he had on the pack of beer he brought and walked towards the kitchen confidently. He took one for himself and put the others in the fridge before turning around and ending face to face with Mandy.

 

“Hey, you made it!” she said as she hugged him like they were best friends.

 

Ian could tell she had a lot to drink already but she was still standing on her high heels, a big smile on her face and a cocktail in her hand. She was wearing a red, tight dress and she let her black hair fall on her shoulders gracefully. Ian thought that she was beautiful and that he’d definitely go for a girl like that if he weren’t playing for the other team. The Milkoviches were lethal.

 

“You look great, Mandy.” He said with a smile. She faked to be embarrassed and nodded at his beer.

 

“I thought we were out of those.”

 

“Brought them with me.” He said, ready to go get another.

 

Mandy shook her head but smiled sweetly at him. “That’s the kind of guest I like.” She then gestured at the crowd. “Go smell the crowd, Red. Mickey went to buy more beer, should be back in a few.” She hugged him again.” Make yourself home.” She added before disappearing in the crowd.

 

Ian wandered in the apartment, talking to a few people here and there and sipping his beer slowly; he knew what a single beer could do to him and he didn’t want to be drunk when Mickey finally arrived. He leaned against the living room wall, having a full sight of the place when he heard the door shut loudly. Even if he couldn’t see him yet, Ian tensed on instinct. _He’s here_ , he thought. He swallowed with difficulty, his throat being constricted at the mere thought of seeing Mickey again, but went to the kitchen.

 

Mickey was stuffing the fridge with beer and cursing something like ‘fucking Mandy, fucking party’ and went on his knees to add the last beers in the lower container. Ian couldn’t help but stare at his body. Mickey was wearing a dark blue jeans and a white tee shirt, making the muscles on his arms look bigger than he remembered. His jet black hair was slick back on top but very short on the sides and that was new too; Ian remembered a simpler haircut back then, but people change in two years, right? The thought made him cringe a little, and he wondered if Mickey had made more changes in his life, changes like a boyfriend. He shook the thought away and stepped closer to Mickey, who was still trying to make the bottles fit in the tiny fridge.

 

“Hey.”

 

Mickey looked up, his eyebrows were furrowed; he was obviously annoyed but then froze as he took Ian in.

 

 ***

 

 _Ian’s here. What the_ \- Mickey thought.

 

 He quickly stood up, giving up on the beers and closed the fridge’s door.

 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his face a little white.

 

Ian blushed in a matter of seconds at Mickey’s harsh tone, and fixed his gaze on something behind Mickey.

 

“I ran into Mandy at the pizza place, she invited me. She didn’t tell you?” He said, unsure.

 

“No.”

 

Mickey wanted to kill his sister; they had spent the entire day together, planning this bullshit party Mickey didn’t even want to throw, and the bitch forgot to mention Ian.

Ian coming to his place. Bitch.

 

On the other hand, the night after he met Ian, Mandy sensed something. She asked a hundred questions, and went full on annoying. Mickey gave out almost nothing except that yes, he spent the night with the redhead’ guy that she gawked at that day. She didn’t know Mickey had spent one of the greatest nights with Ian, and that he often thought about him.

 

He realized maybe too late that Ian was staring at him, the blush being even more obvious than a minute ago. Ian looked like he wanted to escape this kitchen and never come back. When Mickey still didn’t speak, Ian sighed and put his beer on the kitchen table.

 

“I’m gonna go, I should-“

 

“Stay.”

 

Mickey’s voice was hoarse and he felt embarrassed about it, but he put a smile on his face. Ian returned it shyly and Mickey felt like an idiot. He grabbed a drink from the fridge and grinned.

 

“Left it there before going for beers. So…how are you?”

 

After that, Ian seemed to relax; he told Mickey why he was in New York, talked about his life in LA for a bit. Mickey was listening intently, staring at Ian’s mouth from time to time. He wanted to stop doing it, but his eyes seemed to come back naturally there.

Ian didn’t seem to notice, and so he carried on. They spent they entire night side by side, not leaving the kitchen, not talking to anyone. It seemed like they didn’t even notice the groups of people who gradually left the party, when they waved to say goodbye.

They also didn’t notice that they got closer and closer over the night, despite the place getting empty. When they finally got out of their bubble, the place was nearly empty; there was still a drunken couple slow dancing in the living room, a girl on the phone in the bathroom, and Mandy, nearly passed out on the couch. Ian watched her with an affectionate smile and Mickey rolled his eyes at the spectacle.

  

“I’m gonna-“ he gestured towards Mandy and the corridor, which Ian presumed led to bedrooms.

 

“Yeah, go. I’m gonna clean up a bit.”

 

“Leave it, I’ll do it tomorrow.” Mickey said before going to Mandy.

 

He carried her to her room, holding her tight against his chest and Mandy sighed against him. He put her on the bed and got rid of her shoes, and placed the thin sheet on her body. She moved then, placing one hand on Mickey’s forearm as he was about to leave.

 

“I had a great night.” She said sleepily with her eyes were closed.

 

“Yeah, well, I hope you enjoyed it because it ain’t happening again.”

 

Mandy smiled, and her eyes opened, piercing blue fixing her brother. She tightened the grip on his arm, forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed.

 

“I like him.” she said with a yawn.

 

“Okay.”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

Mickey looked away, and pretended he didn’t feel Mandy’s hand rubbing circles on his arm. He sighed deeply and leaned forward, pressing a kiss on her forehead and got up. Mandy smiled, her eyes still closed, and rolled in her sheets; she let him leave, hoping even in her drunken state that her brother wouldn’t be a complete asshole.

 

….

 

Despite what Mickey had said, Ian was cleaning when he got back in the living room. Everybody had left, and so they finished cleaning in silence, until the whole place was covered. They caught the other watching a few times, but quickly glanced away, like shy teenagers not wanting to be obvious about their current crush.

 

Finally, they crashed on the couch, Mickey with his whiskey and Ian with a bottle of water. Mickey was having a hard time not staring, but it got more complicated as the night went on because now, every single detail about Ian was hypnotizing; the freckles, the crooked smiles, the broad shoulders under the blue shirt that made wonders.

 

Mickey snapped out of it when he realized Ian was sitting inches away from him, his hand on Mickey’s knee. He stared at Ian’s hand and then brought back his attention to Ian, who placed his other on his neck.

 

“What’s on your mind?” He said, his eyes searching Mickey’s face for answers.

 

“What do you mean?” Mickey asked with a frown.

 

“I don’t know, you seem somewhere else. Happened a few times tonight. Like… you’re so deep in your thoughts you don’t even realize what’s going on around.”

 

Mickey didn’t know how to answer, didn’t want to tell Ian he was so beautiful he made him lose his train of thought. So he smiled weakly and bit his lips, hoping Ian would drop it without any further explanation. Ian’s eyes landed on his mouth, and the way his hand tightened on his knees made Mickey feel weak. Ian returned the smile and leaned forward as he pressed their lips together; it was soft and warm, and Mickey couldn’t help the small moan he let escape. He angled himself so he was facing Ian completely and placed his hands on both sides of his neck, stroking the flesh with his thumbs.

 

Ian licked Mickey’s bottom lip, asking for more and Mickey parted his lips, let him deepen the kiss. After a moment, he felt like he was on fire but he needed more so he pushed Ian against the couch to lie down against him. The feeling of being pressed together made the kiss become more frantic; Ian was still kissing Mickey like there was no tomorrow, but now his hands could get under Mickey’ shirt, he could feel the strong muscles of his back and chest. Mickey was groaning against his lips, grinding against Ian with his hands fisting Ian’s hair.

 

Mickey never got a serious boyfriend since he left his father’s house but sometimes, when he felt enough comfortable, he let some guys kiss him. He had read somewhere that kissing could be very powerful, like all the nerves on his body could get electrified by making the tongues dancing with each other. But with Ian, the sensation was overwhelming, almost too much; if he had no other urge surpassing this one, he was pretty sure he could kiss Ian forever.

When Ian slid his hand to his ass so he could grab it and increase the pressure against his body, Mickey’s heart missed a heartbeat and he bit on Ian’ lower lip, eliciting a grunt from the redhead. Ian detached his lips from Mickey’s, staring at him intensely and whispered against his lips.

 

“Maybe we could… go to your room?” He said hesitantly.

 

Mickey’ body froze for a second; He wanted Ian, there was no denying that, but what if he couldn’t do it? Flashes of his last experiences with men came back to him, or more accurately failure at doing so, and he didn’t want it to happen now. But what if it was different with Ian?

 

“Yeah… let’s move. “ He got off of the couch and took Ian’s hand in his, loving the way Ian’s fingers curled against his and he led him to his bedroom. If he was praying all the gods to not let him down right now, Ian didn’t have to know.

 

 

***************

 

_The purpose of this thesis is:_

-       _to give people the right tools and adequate theoretical elements to be able to recognize a true soulmate (i.e the passage from Ajnani to Jnani)_

-       _to explain the mechanism put in gear when those two souls meet (when they reach sattva)_

-       _to accurately interpret the psychological and physical manifestations afterwards (when they are kundalini)_

_Despite the fact that this thesis was not written to prove that, the author supports the idea that everybody has a soulmate. However, with a world’s population reaching 7 billion inhabitants (and still growing), it has become almost impossible to connect with the other half in one’s lifetime, hence the importance of this work: if two people are indeed meant to be together, they should have the necessary knowledge to assess the situation and comprehend the stages they are going through before reaching the state of grace (sattva)_

_Chapter 1 : Connecting with the other Ajnani_

_In order for two souls to connect and reach sattva (the perfect state), two kinds of bonds are requisite to happen. The two souls have to physically engage; through the process of intimate relations, an extremely powerful connection can be born. The second bond revolves around the discovery of each other on a spiritual level. The process can be similar to any kind of romantic relationship, but the difference lies in the fact that if the two souls are indeed meant to be, the bond is very easily created and impossible to break. The physical attraction becomes undeniable and the emotional connection is from this point impossible to break. Even if one of the two souls wanted to get rid of the connection previously created, it could not be done. With each moment spent together, the connection becomes even more powerful._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, my beta fairy Alex, and sorry about commas ;)


	7. I got you under my skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much fluff and smut.
> 
> We'll get back to plot soon :)

Mickey was in the bathroom, splashing water on his face. Ian was waiting for him in his bedroom, but Mickey needed a minute. He pretended he had to grab something real quick when really, he was giving himself a pep talk in front of the mirror, basically begging his cock not to let him down. He was nervously tapping his foot and shaking his hands by his sides as he tried to get rid of the tension. 

He could do this. He was going to do this. 

He took a condom with him since it seemed like the best excuse for leaving Ian on his own and he sighed deeply, annoyed with himself. He was acting like a pussy, and he didn’t like it. He stared at himself one last time and went to his room, where he found Ian sitting on the edge of his bed. He was looking around absentmindedly, and Mickey would have paid a shit ton of money to know what was going through his head.

Ian stood up the second he noticed Mickey, and he put his hands in his pockets. He smiled shyly at him, but took a step forward, as if his hesitation couldn’t overcome his need to touch, to feel Mickey. He brushed his thumb against his bottom lip and he took another step, the shy smile quickly turning into a smirk. He must have loved what he was seeing in Mickey’s eyes because his confidence seemed to grow by the second. 

Mickey was staring. How could he not though? Ian’s throat was glistening with sweat; the first buttons of his shirt were opened and Mickey could make out sparse red hairs. He licked his lips unconsciously and stepped forward, closing the distance between them. 

He gently pressed his lips against Ian’s and relaxed as he felt Ian’s hands coming up to frame his face gently, as if he was afraid to push Mickey too far. But then Mickey groaned quietly in pleasure and the remaining doubts they both had vanished in the air. 

Kissing Ian was making Mickey feel good, really good. He hoped this wasn’t going to end like the last times he tried to hook up with guys, but somehow, he knew it wouldn’t. He could feel the hunger, the desperate need he hadn’t felt for months. He wanted to rip Ian’s clothes off, let his mouth trail on every inch of his body, hear Ian moan his name softly against his skin over and over. 

Ian placed his hands on Mickey’s forearms and pulled him against his body forcefully; it made Mickey stumble against him and Ian chuckled, but his laughter died as Mickey deepened the kiss. It was bit sloppy at first, but soon their tongues were moving together perfectly, so perfectly it had Ian squeeze his eyes shut. 

Mickey broke the kiss and pulled himself from Ian's grip only to push him against the bed. Ian lay on the mattress, perched on his elbows as he watched Mickey shed his clothes quickly.

They didn’t speak, they just watched each other, their eyes scanning the other’s body hungrily. Ian was so engrossed with the image in front of him that when Mickey was finally naked in front of him and gesturing at him, he realized he was still fully dressed. He unbuttoned his jeans and he felt awkward as he pathetically struggled to get rid of them, which only made Mickey laugh softly.

Ian started working on the buttons of his shirt and cursed under his breath as one of his sleeves got stuck at his wrist because of his watch. Mickey scoffed and Ian wanted to make a snarky comment, but he shut up when Mickey knelt between Ian’s spread legs. He smiled wickedly, then took Ian’s wrist and got rid of the watch before freeing Ian from his shirt, said shirt ending god knows where on Mickey’s floor. 

Mickey slipped his hand under Ian’s waistband and started stroking him slowly, making Ian’s head fall back and his eyes shut. Mickey was breathing heavily, his face only inches from Ian’s, his free hand cradling Ian’s neck. He dug his fingers in the flesh there and leaned in closer to Ian. He kissed Ian slowly, tasting him with every swirl of his tongue. Ian’s eyes fluttered open at some point and Mickey’s stomach flipped at their intensity. He was getting completely lost in Ian.

Mickey detached their lips and swiftly got rid of Ian’s boxers with a little bit of Ian’s help. The second they were on the floor, Ian flipped their position so Mickey was lying on his back. 

He left a trail of wet kisses along Mickey’s neck and jaw, making Mickey moan. Ian was painfully hard, his dick pressed against Mickey’s thigh. He could feel that Mickey was barely aroused, and Ian looked down at him, searching for something. Mickey was staring back intently, his blue eyes fixed on Ian’s face. Ian couldn’t say how but he knew exactly what Mickey was thinking. It was like he could experience the conflicted thoughts running through Mickey’s head. He could sense hesitation, fear but also a strong need to enjoy this, to connect with Ian despite it all. 

“Don’t overthink this, okay?” Ian said in a breathy whisper.

Mickey sighed and he closed his eyes, reopening them in surprise when Ian grabbed his chin and kissed him hard. Feeling Ian’s tongue playing with his own, the way Ian sighed in pleasure against his lips was exhilarating. Mickey tried to follow Ian’s advice, just let go and enjoy the moment. 

He wanted this so bad, it was almost painful. 

Ian broke the kiss after a while, crawling down on Mickey’s body instead, leaving kisses and little bites on his way. He left temporary fingerprints on Mickey’s sides, kneading the flesh and making Mickey relax. It seemed to work and Ian smiled against Mickey’sskin, but he didn’t stop.

Every contact made Mickey arch his body, as if Ian’s touch was electrifying, sending sparks right through him. 

Ian placed his hands on Mickey’s hips as he wrapped his lips around Mickey’s cock and started sucking lightly on the head. Mickey moaned loudly and fisted the sheets under him, twisting them between his fingers. He knew he had to keep his mouth shut since Mandy was sleeping in the next room, but it had been a while since he felt so turned on. The teasing was excruciating, Ian worked his tongue on Mickey as if he had waited for so long to finally get to do it. 

“Ian, please… I, fuck, please.” Mickey pleaded. A strong flush crept up on his chest and face, and Ian finally indulged him. 

It was hard to stay quiet when Ian was sucking him down eagerly, using his hand to cover what his mouth couldn’t. Mickey was getting harder by the second so Ian took his hand away and slowly deep throated him, making Mickey cry out loud in the dark room. 

One of his hands found Ian’s head and he pulled on a red tuft of hair, a silent warning that he needed to stop. Ian let go of Mickey’s dick with a ‘pop’ and Mickey rolled his eyes as he stared down at a very proud Ian, who was grinning up at him. 

Mickey rolled over and grabbed a condom and a bottle of lube in the drawer before he gripped Ian’s arms, tugging him further up on the bed. Once Ian was lying by his side, Mickey straddled him and started grinding against him. Ian unconsciously brought his hips up, increasing the friction between them, making Mickey hiss. 

Their movements quickly became erratic and Mickey could feel the heat pool in his stomach; he grabbed the lube and poured some on his fingers to get himself ready. No way he was going to come like this when he hadn’t had a dick up his ass for months. He pushed a first finger in and bit his bottom lip hard. His eyes were closed, his movements focused until he heard Ian growl. 

Mickey opened his eyes and his breath hitched as he took Ian in. His lips were parted, his eyes were scanning Mickey’s body hungrily, and his whole body was taut. Mickey unconsciously licked his lips at the sight of Ian’s abs, the drops of sweat sliding from his chest to his belly button. 

“Don’t you want a little help with that?” Ian said before leaning forward and biting Mickey’s nipple. 

“It’s okay… just, watch me.” Mickey replied, out of breath. It’s not that he didn’t trust Ian to do it himself, but Ian was big, there was no denying that. He needed to do it just like he liked it. He wanted to enjoy this. 

Ian bit his nipple a little harder and kneaded Mickey’s ass cheeks. He pressed his chinagainst Mickey’s sternum, looking up at him as if he’d never seen something so hot in his life. As far as Mickey was concerned, he was sure Ian Gallagher staring at him with hooded eyes was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. 

Mickey added another finger, stretching himself tantalizingly slowly, until he touched the bundle of nerves that made his breath stutter. A flow of whispered curses escaped his mouth but he didn’t care, he wanted to take his time. Ian was touching him and it was almost frantic: he dug his nails in Mickey's flesh, and there was something desperate with the way he moved against Mickey. The combination of Ian’s ministrations, the soft noises he made and the constant pressure his fingers applied made Mickey lose his mind.

Mickey removed his fingers and tried to grab the condom, but Ian was keeping him in place, sucking on Mickey’s neck and pulling his hair. Mickey chuckled and titled his head to give full access to Ian. Mickey finally grabbed the condom and ripped the package open. He slid it slowly onto Ian.Pouring more lube on his fingers, Mickey gave Ian’s dick a few strokes, and swiftly cleaned his fingers on the sheets before grasping Ian’s shoulders. They locked eyes for a second, and Mickey wondered what it was about this guy that was so different. What did Ian have that the others didn’t? 

Mickey would have seriously considered the thought if Ian hadn’t gripped his hips, forcing him to focus on the moment. Mickey got the message, and slowly, oh so slowly, sunk down on Ian’s dick until he was fully seated on his lap. He started moving then, his eyes shut and his whole body shivering. On instinct, he stroked Ian’s cheek but he barely increased his pace, the pleasure of being full again making him lose his mind. Their bodies moved in sync, Ian thrusting his hips in rhythm with Mickey’s pace. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, Mick.” Ian breathed out. 

Ian wrapped one arm around Mickey and gripped his hair with the other, so he could stare at him, take in every emotion. Their lips brushed slightly against each other, but neither of them went further; the light contact was perfect. It was enough when their bodies moved together like that. Mickey was riding him in earnest, his breathing uneven and his thighs burning from the effort. He bit his lower lip too hard when Ian’s thrusts hit him just right and he hissed in pleasure.  

Mickey bit at Ian’s shoulder and snuck a hand between their bodies to touch himself, but Ian snatched Mickey’s hand away so he could do it instead. It only took a few strokes before Mickey’s whole body shuddered and he came hard with a groan, spent and satisfied. Ian thrust his hips a couple times and Mickey clenched around him, feeling oversensitive. Mickey licked the sensitive spot where he bit on Ian's shoulder, and then pressed light kisses there. It was enough to make Ian come seconds after him. 

They stayed still for a moment, before Mickey eased off of Ian and rolled onto the bed, exhaling sharply. He took his lighter and a smoke from his pack, lighting it while Ian got rid of the condom. They stayed silent, enjoying the cigarette back and forth until Ian spoke. 

“Hope your sister didn’t hear us.” He said, taking a drag. 

“Please, don’t talk about my sister right now.” Mickey said as he covered his eyes. 

Ian laughed quietly and got more comfortable on the bed, not so subtly scooting closer to Mickey. He tentatively reached for Mickey’s hand and he was pleasantly surprised when Mickey turned on his side, forcing Ian to spoon him. He placed both of their hands on his stomach and sighed, the sweet feeling of having Ian pressed against him more than enough to make him fall asleep in record time. He felt Ian press kisses against his shoulder, whispering sweet nothing he could not decipher, his babbling lulling him into sleep. 

…

When Mickey woke up the next morning, the first thing he felt was the cold. He opened his eyes to see that he was naked and exposed, and that he was also on the edge of the bed. He turned his head a bit too fast and cursed under his breath before he laid eyes on the reason he was freezing his ass off. 

Ian was lying on his stomach and his body was wrapped up in Mickey’s comforter. Mickey wondered how he succeeded in stealing the whole thing and then got in this position without waking him up. 

He was a little disappointed too; he expected to wake up with Ian’s body pressed against his, Ian’s nose buried in the crook of his neck. This way, he could have denied he wanted to cuddle the shit out of Ian. Because he did, he really did. He had spent so much time thinking about him the last two years, that now that Ian was there, he didn’t want to let go. 

He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts, because since when Mickey Milkovich gets obsessed with a guy he hadn’t seen for two years? It was inexplicable, and also unacceptable for Mickey, but he couldn’t deny the power Ian had on him. He felt trapped into Ian’s space and he had no desire to claim his freedom. 

Ian was something else. Mickey didn’t like listening to people, he didn’t even want to speak to them but for some reason, he had spent the previous night chatting with Ian and getting interested in everything he had to say. He had never wanted to have a boyfriend, and here was, dreading the end of the week when he would have to let Ian go back to LA. He thought about the guys Ian had probably been with for the past two years and he felt terribly sad and jealous to think of anyone else other than him kissing Ian. He wondered if among these guys, Ian had had serious relationships, or if it was just hook ups. Both options made Mickey’s hand turn into a fist. 

He didn’t realize Ian had opened his eyes and was staring at him with his big puppy eyes, a smirk forming slowly. Ian cleared his throat and Mickey looked at him as if he just got caught doing something bad. 

“What are you frowning about?” Ian said with a groggy voice. 

“I’m not frowning.” Mickey replied. He turned around a little, resting his body on his side, his eyes fixed on Ian’s face. 

Ian brought his hand to Mickey’s forehead and ran his thumb over the wrinkles, forcing Mickey to relax under his touch, freeing him from his worry. He made dumb faces as he did so, and Mickey huffed a laugh at how Ian could be such a dork. Ian’s face lighted up as Mickey smiled at him and he scooted closer, still trapped in the comforter. He lifted his hips up to grab one of its corner and allowed Mickey to slip under the cover with him. Mickey would lie, even under torture if he had to, but lying in bed, his head on Ian’s chest, was the happiest he had felt in a while. 

…

Mandy had left the apartment when they finally decided to get up. They made breakfast together and Mickey was a little freaked out at how easy it was. He could get used to this, Ian by his side in the morning, stealing kisses and humming songs while cooking. Especially if Ian was okay with doing it every morning only wearing boxers. They settled on Mickey’s couch and ate in silence, Ian trying to play footsie with Mickey and Mickey giving him ‘The Look’. Ian had to leave shortly after, he didn’t have his meds on him and he should have already taken them. 

Once Ian was dressed, he grabbed his stuff and waited by the door for Mickey to let him out. Mickey had barely opened the door when Ian practically jumped him, pressing his lips against his throat, kissing and biting at the milky skin. Mickey groaned and ran his hand through Ian’s hair. Ian whispered something and bit harder on Mickey’s neck, his hands sliding dangerously from Mickey’s arms to his hips. 

“What was that, mumbles?” 

“Would you come to my place tonight? We could order something, watch a movie.” Ian said, his nose brushing lightly against Mickey’s throat. 

“Watch a movie, huh? Yeah, I’m in.”

Ian took a step backward and bit his lips. He took his phone out of his pocket, and he handed it to Mickey so he could put his number in. Mickey dialed his number quickly, and he heard his phone somewhere in the apartment play the Californication theme song. He placed Ian’s phone in his back pocket, let his hand linger there a little longer than necessary before pressing a peck on his cheek. 

“Now, go. I’ll see you tonight, dumbass.” 

Ian didn’t respond but flashed him his brightest smile before going down the stairs, leaving Mickey lovestruck and dazed. 

…

Ian decided to cook instead of ordering something for his night with Mickey. He went to the grocery store and bought everything he needed to cook one of his favorite meals, an Italian recipe called osso buco. Cooking was something he had started doing during his manic phases, back when he was still looking for the perfect dosage of his meds. When he couldn’t sleep, he would experiment on different recipes, adding spices and ingredients he didn’t even know the real use of. It took him a while, but he was pretty good now and it had become a relaxing habit. 

When Mickey knocked at the door, Ian was chopping carrots, an apron tied to his waist and flour on his right cheek. Mickey smiled fondly at him, and went into the apartment like he owned the place, much like when he entered any room. Mickey took off his jacket and threw it unceremoniously on the couch as he scanned the place. He joined Ian in the kitchen, and Ian offered him a beer without bothering to ask if he wanted one. They talked easily to each other, just like the previous night; no pressure, no discomfort, nothing unpleasant. 

Ian made a point of eating in the kitchen and dressed the table, because no, such an amazing meal couldn’t be enjoyed properly otherwise. He smiled happily when Mickey growled at how good the food was, and he rolled his eyes when Mickey complimented him on his cooking skills. They moved to the living room once they were finished, and Ian put the TV on. 

'The DUFF' was playing, and when Ian was about to change it, Mickey took the remote away. 

“Man, have you seen this movie?” He asked. 

“No, and I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t have either.” Ian replied with a teasing smile. 

“Fuck off, man. Saw it once with my sister, it’s completely lame.”

“Then why are we watching?” Ian asked with a huff. 

“Because I like watching movies and talking shit about them. You got a problem with that?”  

He raised an eyebrow in challenge and waited for Ian to reply, but nothing came. Ian shrugged his shoulder and got comfortable on the couch, well aware of Mickey’s eyes on him. Mickey spent the first half of the movie pointing out every cliché the movie contained. Like the fact that, of course, the girl was living next to the sexiest guy in high school, but no, they weren’t attracted to each other until she got a crush on another guy. Or how the ‘mean girl’ made the ‘DUFF’ miserable, stole said sexy neighbor but in this perfect world, the two protagonists ended up with each other, kissing at the prom with the crowd cheering.

“I can’t believe chicks are not tired of this plot. How many times can you recycle a pitch, for Christ’s sake?!” 

Ian laughed quietly and rolled his eyes at Mickey’s dumbest comments. Mickey was unstoppable in his critics until Ian reached for his hand and slotted their fingers together. Mickey didn’t say a thing for a while, and Ian was afraid he had gone too far. But then Mickey relaxed and gently squeezed Ian’s hand, even if he chose not to look at him. Ian felt bold and scooted closer to Mickey until their bodies were pressed against each other from shoulder to knees. Mickey turned his head slightly and he whispered in Ian’s ear, his cologne filling Ian's nostrils. 

“Subtlety ain’t your thing, Gallagher.” 

Ian gently slapped his thigh with his free hand but only moved closer, and he let his hand rest on Mickey’s thigh. He squeezed it playfully and Mickey groaned, but he didn't try to put Ian's hand away. Ian knew Mickey wasn't as comfortable as he was. Fucking was one thing, but this semi-cuddling in front of the TV was another. 

The movie ended and Ian got up to make popcorn, and Mickey went through Ian’s DVD collection to find an action movie. It was needed after the bad romcom they had just watched. He picked up 'Cliffhanger' with Bruce Willis because apparently, 90s movies could not be dethroned. Mickey had brought some weed with him and he was rolling a joint when Ian came back from the kitchen, a huge bowl of popcorn in hands. 

“Open your mouth, Mick.” Ian said as he grabbed a few pieces from the bowl. 

Mickey looked up and smirked, incapable of missing an opportunity to make a comment. 

“Easy, Gallagher, I thought we were about to watch a movie.” He licked his lips and let his eyes wander on Ian’s body, his words contradicting his expression. 

“Try to catch the popcorn, dumbass.” 

Ian threw a piece of popcorn in Mickey’s direction and Mickey missed despite the small distance between them. The challenge seemed to catch Mickey’s attention, and once he had licked the sticky stripe of his paper and finished his joint, he straightened up in front of Ian, waiting for another shoot. 

They threw popcorn at each other for a while, laughing at each other, cursing when they missed, until Ian decided there was enough popcorn on his floor. He had caramel stuck between his teeth and his hands were a bit sticky, but it had been a long time since he has spend a night like this. It reminded him of the hours spent at the Gallagher house, when he drank and smoked with Lip, and he felt nostalgic. He made a mental note to call his brother the next day to know how his meeting went and how were things at home for their siblings. Surely Lip would have stories to tell, there was always something going on in the Southside. 

Mickey took his seat back and patted the spot beside him, a silent invite for Ian to take back their initial position. It was Mickey who made a move this time; he placed his hand in Ian’s and Ian unconsciously placed kisses on his knuckles, like it was the most natural gesture in the world. When he looked up, Mickey was studying his face, something like awe in his eyes. He was blushing, and Ian found it very, very enticing. 

“What is it?” Ian asked softly. 

Mickey didn’t look away but Ian could tell he was struggling not to. He rubbed at his forehead in discomfort, but blurted out what he was thinking. 

“You got so many freckles, man.” 

“Yeah, well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m very much a redheaded, so...” 

Mickey elbowed him in the ribs and they both laughed like idiots until Ian grabbed his remote and started the movie. 

*****

Mickey didn’t pay much attention to the movie, he had seen it countless times already. He’d rather trace with his eyes along the freckles on Ian’s forearm and on his hands than pay attention to Bruce Willis hung on a damn cliff. 

His eyes went further up and he scanned Ian’s neck and face, spotting the dots on the contour of his lips, on his earlobe, on the tip of his nose. They were like stars scattered across the sky and Mickey thought that that’s what Ian was: a fucking mystery that made him feel happy when he looked at him, just like when he laid on the baseball field of his hometown back then, watching the sky. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to romanticagirl : I came to her for advice and she read the smut part over... You're amazing, but you know that. <3
> 
> Pens: My sweet beta fairy, my partner in crime, you know I feel so lucky to have you (realized you've been my beta for like a year ?!? Like WTF? Happy Anniversary, babe ^^). Thank you for this.


	8. You're so damn important, everything you do shows me you know it

Happy.

 

That was the only word that came to Ian. He was lying in bed half naked, with Mickey pressed against him, as if Ian was his anchor. They fell asleep with Ian spooning him, which at first didn't enchant Mickey, but he quickly gave in.

How they woke up with Ian on his back and Mickey clinging onto him like a koala was a mystery. Ian didn't care. His right arm felt numb, with Mickey lying on it, and he knew he was going to have marks where Mickey was currently digging his nails into the skin, but he couldn't wake him up. Mickey didn't look upset or tense, despite his strong hold on Ian. He seemed peaceful, relaxed. That was what made Ian feel so content.

 

Ian took Mickey in, relishing in the opportunity to really look at him, like he wanted to. Usually Mickey would glance away, or just blurt out “the fuck you looking at”, forcing Ian to stop the staring. But right now, Mickey was reachable, still and so damn beautiful.

Ian couldn't decide what he liked the most: Was it the faint freckles on his nose? His plump, pink lips? They were so inviting when he bit at them, or when he unconsciously licked at them when he felt nervous. Maybe it was the softness of his skin under Ian's fingertips, how he was so pliant under Ian's touch. Maybe it was all of it.

 

Ian was seriously debating when Mickey grunted and his eyelids fluttered open; he locked eyes with Ian and that was it. Nothing made Ian’s heart leap into his throat as much as Mickey’s look. They stayed still, and Ian tightened his grip on him. Whatever Mickey wanted, Ian would always comply; he was left dumbstruck when Mickey looked at him like that. Hooded eyes, a smile tugged at his lips, his long eyelashes fluttering slightly. Mickey frowned at Ian, and he buried his face in the crook of his neck.

“Stop staring at me, and go make me breakfast, asshole.” He mumbled.

 

Ian huffed a laugh, and much to Mickey's surprise, he rose from the bed to go and prepare breakfast. Five minutes later, Mickey dragged himself into Ian's kitchen in his boxers, his black hair, usually neatly combed, a complete mess. He had lines and wrinkles cascading across his face from hugging the pillow to his cheeks throughout the night, and Ian thought he had never been more beautiful.

 

Mickey wasn't a morning person, and Ian immediately got that. He just put a mug of coffee in Mickey's hands, and he waved at the couch to prompt Mickey to take a seat. Mickey grumbled something unintelligible, something Ian decided to take as a thank you. He turned over the freezer to retrieve pancakes and start his cooking; he was about to open the fridge when Mickey put his hand against it and stopped him. He leaned forward and he crashed his lips against Ian's before he could say anything.

There was nothing sexual about it; it was just Mickey, in his awkward way, trying to tell Ian he appreciated being here with him, being taken care of for once. It was just breakfast, but Mickey wasn't used to people wanting to please him. Besides Mandy, who had always been here for him, Mickey was always the one in charge. He was the one to deal with whatever was thrown at their faces.

Ian broke the kiss, and tentatively placed his hands on Mickey's hips to keep him from moving away. Mickey pressed himself against Ian, humming against his skin. It gave Ian goosebumps and he couldn't help but feel giddy. He felt like he was high when he was with Mickey. They stayed still for a while, enjoying the simple embrace. Ian kept running his hand through Mickey's hair, something he wasn't allowed to do when it was all styled up, and Mickey left furtive kisses on Ian's skin.

 

When Mickey tried to let go, Ian tightened his grip on him, and peppered the side of his face, from his temple to his jaw, with light kisses. Mickey chuckled and tried to struggle but Ian was holding him close. Mickey finally looked up and he kissed Ian again, soft and slow, but hungry for him. He let his tongue run over Ian's lip, and he smiled into the heated kiss as he heard Ian sigh. Ian cradled his neck to bring him closer, if that was possible.

It was Mickey who finally stepped back, and he stared at Ian with so much lust in his eyes that Ian was about to give up on breakfast and lead him straight to his bedroom. Mickey slapped his ass, and he smiled brightly.

“I'm hungry, asshole.” He turned on his heels, took back the coffee mug on the kitchen table, and Ian gave him a slap back before he couldn't reach him anymore. Mickey chuckled slightly and he went to the living room to crash, whistling. Ian never stopped looking at him until he was out of his sight.

 

****

When it was time for Mickey to leave, he kept rubbing at his lower lip, something Ian had caught to be a nervous habit of his. He pushed Mickey's hand away playfully and raised his eyebrows at Mickey's discomfort.

 

“You free tonight ?” Mickey said quickly, looking anywhere but at Ian.

 

“What, you miss me already ?” Ian replied with a smug smile.

 

Mickey rolled his eyes and took a step toward the door, ready to leave but Ian grabbed the hem of his jacket to stop him. He annoyingly searched Mickey's eyes, moving his face around the other man to get his attention. Mickey finally relented and looked up, faint blush on his skin, almost invisible but he smiled sheepishly.

 

“I thought maybe we could hang out tonight. Your brother is coming back tomorrow and I have to work so we probably won't see each other again before you go back to LA.”

Ian's smile quickly faded at Mickey's statement; he had not thought about that, not even for a second. Being in his little bubble of comfort had made the world outside irrelevant.

“I'm sure we can find a way to meet again before I leave. I mean, I'm up for tonight but it doesn't mean we won't see each other again. I'm leaving on Wednesday morning, we still have a few days.“

Mickey bit his bottom lip, his stare fixed on Ian's lips and he nodded, unsure. He gently freed himself from the grasp Ian had on his jacket, and nodded again, a silent goodbye before leaving.

 

****

Much to his surprise, when Ian left Rick's office at the gym to go and get lunch, Mandy was in the waiting room, flicking through a fitness magazine. He went to the receptionist to ask her how much time she had waited. Rosa told him she had been there for a least 20 minutes but she didn't say who she was waiting for.

 

“Hey, there!” He said as he approached her.

“Finally! What were you doing in there that took so long?”

 

Ian huffed a laugh and pecked her on the cheek. Mandy slightly blushed, and gave him a quick jab in the shoulder. An Affectionate Milkovich gesture.

 

“I'm interviewing candidates to take over the manager, he's moving to LA.”

“Why bother with interviewing when you could just come back?” Mandy asked, genuinely curious.”

“I'm not sure-”

 

Ian got interrupted by his phone vibrating in the pocket of his jeans. It was Mickey, asking him if it was okay to spend the evening at his place and not Ian's.

 

“Is that my brother?” Mandy asked as she leaned over to glance at the text.

 

Ian quickly put the phone in his pocket and he gave her a suspicious look.

 

“How would you know?”

“You're smiling like a moron.”

 

Ian fainted to be insulted and Mandy laughed at him; she took his arm and led them to the exit and into the street.

 

“I was wondering if you would want to have lunch with me.” she said as they went down the street.

“You're not giving me much of a choice, are you?”

 

Mandy looked at him with a mischievous smile, and tightened her grip on his arm. She leaned her head against her shoulder for a second, but she drew back almost instantly. She made him think about Debbie sometimes. They were eager to know and love people, but sometimes too afraid and too suspicious to give in. Mandy's proximity meant that she wanted to trust Ian but she wasn't sure yet if he deserved it.

 

“There is an Italian restaurant down the street I like.”

 

Ian nodded and smiled at her, and he followed her lead without protest.

 

“How did you find me anyway?” Ian asked once they were seated in the small restaurant. The waitress had taken their orders and they were chewing on garlic breadsticks.

 

“Facebook. You put a link on your personal profile.” she said absentmindedly.

 

Ian laughed at her as she shrugged carelessly, not even bothered enough to deny that she stalked him on the internet. The waitress quickly came back with their orders and they spent a good amount of time talking about Ian's life in LA, and about the people he interviewed in the morning. Mandy said a few things about herself, but every time she had the chance, she brought the conversation on Ian. Ian was willing to share, he had a good feeling about Mandy, but the impromptu lunch and the investigation had to eventually come to an end.

 

“So, tell me. Your brother sent you or did you decide by yourself to ambush me at work and question me?” He said throwing the fries he ordered in his mouth.

“Don't be stupid, he doesn't know I am here. He'd probably kill me.”

“I'm not gonna lie to protect your ass, lady.” Ian replied. Mandy pouted and she threw a french fry at him; Ian dodged it easily and laughed at her annoyed face.

“But seriously, though. My brother likes you.”

“I like him, too.” He genuinely replied.

“No, you don’t' understand.” She put down her fork and crossed her hands on her lap. “My brother doesn't like. He suffers people, despises them, sometimes, you can say he stands them. But he doesn't like them.” She stared at him, and Ian felt something in his stomach make a loop. “I just wanted to be sure you were worth it.”

 

“Am I?” Ian asked then.

“I don't know. But either way, you're leaving soon, so it’s not gonna really matter, right?”

 

Ian looked away, his eyes wandering anywhere but at Mandy's questioning face. He wanted so bad for this, this thing he had with Mickey to continue, but it was insane. He couldn't give Mandy a proper answer, since he was incapable of telling for himself. He finally shrugged the question away by calling out the waitress for coffee. Mandy didn't ask again, and as she walked Ian back to his office, he wondered if Mandy had not just thrown a challenge at him.

 

****

Ian spent the afternoon interviewing candidates to take over Rick, but he didn't feel like any of them could be a perfect fit. After the fifth candidate had left, he grabbed his stuff and went home. He texted Mickey on his way back to know when he should show up, and lit a cigarette, thankful for the hit of nicotine. He took his time to walk back home and enjoy the busy streets of New York, happy once again to be back in the city.

Once he arrived to his apartment, he retrieved his keys and tried to unlock the door, but it was already open. Lip's luggage was in the hallway leading to the bedrooms and Ian could hear music blasting from the bathroom. He barely had the time to shrug off his jacket and take a beer from the fridge before Lip came into the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his waist and drops of water running along his chest.

 

“Hey.” He said as he saw Ian leaning against the kitchen counter.

Ian gave him a small tap on the shoulder and handed him a beer; Lip took it gratefully and opened the bottle with his teeth. Despite the suits and the money, Lip still had this Southside attitude when it came to small things like this. Bad habits die hard.

 

“Weren't you supposed to come home tomorrow?” Ian asked.

“Closed the deal early this morning and Fiona had things to take care of. Figured I could spend some time with my lil' bro.”

 

Ian thought immediately about his date with Mickey, and he felt bad for a second to want to spend time with him than with his brother. Begrudgingly, he texted Mickey to cancel their night, but proposed to have drinks the day after.

Lip kept staring at his brother the whole time it took for Ian and Mickey to exchange, and wondered idly what was going through his brother's head. He constantly wondered to be fair how Ian was doing. When it came to his brother, Lip tended to be overprotective. For years, he had been the one to anticipate the highs and lows. Ian seemed fine, more than fine, but Lip found himself bothered not to be as close to his brother as he used to. Nonetheless, he could tell that Ian had something on his mind.

Lip ordered Chinese later, and the two brothers sat comfortably on couch, watching a rerun of Homeland. On a couple of occasions, Ian's phone chimed and Lip not so subtly glanced at the screen to identify who his brother was texting.

 

 _1 text from Mick_ , it said.

 

Not able to restrain his curiosity, Lip gave in.

 

“So how are things going on with _Mick_?” he said smugly as he snatched Ian's phone from his grasp. He didn't mean to read it really, he just wanted to get his brother's attention.

 

“Give me that, shithead!”

“Oh, so it's serious, huh.”

 

Ian took his phone back with small difficulty and put it in his pocket where it was safe.

 

“None of your business.”

“Well, it is if you spend the night brooding like a child. I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

“I am! It's just... Just drop it.”

 

Lip kicked him slightly in the ribs, before he sat straight on the couch, facing his little brother. He waited expectantly, staring at Ian quizzically until Ian sighed. He ran his hand through his red hair, he was visibly anxious.

 

“Spill.” Lip said with a patronising voice.

“It's ridiculous when you think about it, and I'm sure you are gonna laugh at me.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.” Lip leaned over slightly, and grabbed his beer from the counter table. He smiled encouragingly at Ian and made a gesture for him to carry on.

“My shrink in LA, doctor Shankland? She sent me a book about soulmates. She thinks Mickey and I are… connected.”

 

Lip burst in laughter almost instantly, shaking uncontrollably, and he spilled at least half the content of his drink on the carpet. He had tears at the corner of his eyes and Ian was pretty sure he was purposely overdoing this.

 

“Get over yourself, asshole.” Ian said impassively. “I knew you would do that!”

 

Lip got a hold of himself after a while, and once he calmed down, he focused his attention on his brother. “What kind of shrink did you find yourself, dude?”

“She's great actually. Most of time, when she is not filling my head with bullshit like this. For the record, I don't believe in it ever.”

 

Lip lit yet another cigarette, and passed it to Ian after a few puffs.

 

“I've actually heard about that thing.”

“You did?” Ian asked with surprise. “Maya said that very few people knew about it.”

“Yeah, well. I used to bang a chick when I was in college, she majored in sociology and she talked about it. She thought we were meant to be.” Lip huffed a laugh and snatched the cigarette from Ian's lip. “If you don't believe in it though” - he paused a second to take a long drag- “what is it?”

“I don't know. I feel there's something special between Mickey and I and-”

“Okay, alright.” Lip scooted closer, and put his hand on Ian's shoulder, watching him solemnly. “I'm stopping you right there. Mickey Milkovich, whoever he has become, is still the Southside thug who used to beat the shit out of people and pass out coke. Don't get into this shit, Ian.”

“People change, Lip.”

“Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, and took back his initial position on the couch.

“They do. Look at us.”

“We're still the same fuckers we were, Ian. People don't change. Just because I work for a big firm and make money doesn't mean that I'm not the stupid kid who wanted to create my own R2D2.”

 

Ian laughed at that, but the smile quickly disappeared as he saw Lip's serious face.

 

“You're living across the country; you guys fucked a couple of times. It doesn't mean shit, Ian. Besides, you need stability, and I'm pretty sure a fucking relationship with a guy whose family terrorised our neighbourhood is not a good match.”

“I know what I am doing.” Ian said with tremors in his voice. Lip pointed-blank tone didn't sit well with him, he wanted to end this conversation before his brother could mess even more with his head.

“I hope you do.” Lip added, always eager to have the last word.

 

***

 

Two hours later, Ian was in his bed, fumbling with his sheets, turning over and over, but not able to find sleep. Lip's words kept echoing in his mind. He knew Lip was right; the whole situation was improbable, even if he chose to not take into account the thesis. But since a couple of days, since he had the chance to spend time with Mickey, he couldn't help but think about it.

 

What if it was a real thing? What if he and Mickey were meant to be? He kept struggling with his thoughts when he heard the door of his room open slowly. He barely moved at first, thinking it was Lip, but somehow deep down he knew it wasn't. As his eyes got accustomed to the darkness of the room, he distinguished Mickey's figure entering the room.

 

“What are you doing here?” He said with a raw voice.

 

Mickey froze for a second, before he shrugged and got rid of his jacket. He threw it on the floor and managed to take off his boots without much noise. He slowly approached Ian's bed and slipped under the cover. He hadn't said a single word since his intrusion.

 

“Mickey?” Ian whispered. “Did you just break into my apartment?” he added with a smile in his voice. A silence came along, and Ian tried to extend his arm to light his bedside lamp but Mickey took his wrist and brought it back against Ian's chest.

 

“Are you okay?” Mickey asked. He had kept his hand around Ian's wrist, and he was drawing small circles on it.

“Why?” Ian asked, slightly confused.

“I don't know. I was home with Mandy, and I- I thought something was wrong. Was like I could see you and you were- I don't know, man.”

 

He took his hand away from Ian's chest and scooted closer, their bodies now pressed against each other. Mickey didn't finish his sentence, but somehow he didn't have to. Mickey placed one of his hand on Ian's waist, and Ian mimicked the gesture a second after. Despite the darkness, Ian could discern Mickey's face thanks to the street lights coming through his half-closed shutters. He seemed concerned, tired, his blue eyes were shining with worry. Ian brought a hand over his face, and caressed his cheek gently, his expression softening as he watched Mickey relax under his touch.

 

“I am now. Okay, I mean.”

 

Mickey nodded but he didn't say anything. As they both drifted to sleep, an extract of the thesis came to Ian's mind. He never really believed in anything before. Everlasting love, gods, destiny. But he believed in Mickey. And he was starting to think that, maybe, there were some truth in the soulmate theory. At least he wished there was.

 

****

 

_Out of the 245 couples who willingly participated in this experiment, 10 people caught our attention. These couples (one from Argentina, two from Australia, one from China and one from Austria) who had never met the over participants, affirmed that they were capable, on some level to feel their partner on a much higher level than explained above. They declared that they could easily transfer emotions and thoughts onto their partner, and that they could have control over the phenomenon._

 

_While 3 couples pointed out that the phenomenon had shown gradually, two couples (the one from Argentina, and from Austria) declared that they were instantly capable of sensing and even “hearing” their loved ones. When one soulmate appears to be in an imminent danger, the other could very perceptibly feel the other’s distress and influence his/her decision, as if he/she could take over by communication. The couples who instantly felt the connexion getting settled by itself testified that, despite not knowing each other, they felt trust and affection for the other part right away, and very inexplicably._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is hard for me to write these days (sighs) but I will finish this fic, I promise. Be patient with me <3


	9. The disappearance of Mickey Milkovich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm back; I'm really sorry this took so long but honestly, since the end of season 5, I'm a mess. I don't even know how to write about Ian x Mickey anymore. But I promised I would finish this, and I guess I need closure. FYI I didn't watch season 6 so... Caleb who? Idk man. 
> 
> I just came home and inspiration took me by surprise. It's not as long as my other chapters, but it's me trying to get back on tracks. 
> 
> Also, I'm pretty sure that the story was becoming a bit too predictable and it didn't suit with me. I don't pretend to be a good writer (far from that) but I feel like this new direction I'm taking is the right one. Tell me what you think, it means a lot to me. 
> 
> For all of you out there still reading Gallavich fics, you're not alone, our OTP will never die. <3

“We could have stayed, you know.” Mandy said.

 

She was rummaging through her bag, her hands were shaking. She felt anxious, stressed out beyond measure after the events of the day. Packing years of life within a couple of hours had not been an easy thing. She finally found her smokes and took two, one for her, one for her brother. She lighted them both and passed one to Mickey, who didn't even glance at her but took it anyway. His hands were back on the wheels, his knuckles white from the strong hold on it.

 

“No, we couldn't.” He replied coldly.

 

Mandy sighed and took a deep drag, already done with his brother's stubbornness.

 

“I know you're mad at me for giving Iggy a number to reach me, but like I told you like a thousand times now, it was a prepaid phone I bought only for emergencies. He doesn't know where we are.”

 

“I don't care. You lied to me.”

 

“For fuck's sake, I did it for us, Mickey! Imagine what would have happened if I didn't ! We would be six feet under, buried in a fucking yard in the middle of nowhere !”

 

Mickey kept silent, his face blank as he listened to his sister. Mandy was looking at him, but he kept his eyes fixed on the road, determined.

 

“We could have stayed.” she repeated. She was used to his brother giving her the silent treatment but this, this was unacceptable. “Besides, it's your boyfriend's fault if we're going to fucksville, USA right now.”

 

“Don't.”

 

Mandy's resolve broke at the sound of her brother's voice. With a simple word, Mickey conveyed all the hurt he felt leaving New York behind them, leaving Ian. She knew Mickey wouldn't contact him, wouldn't try to explain why he had to leave the city so quickly after the time they had spent together.

 

“I'm sorry, Mickey. I really am. I know you liked him. A lot.”

 

Mickey didn't say a thing for a while, the silent stretched between them. Suddenly, the words came out as if he couldn't hold them back.

 

“I didn't just like him.

***

_Few days before_

 

Everyone knew Franck Gallagher was a cockroach. The kind that never dies. The kind that gets everywhere, in your house, in your head, in your heart. Franck had no remorse, only a strong instinct of survival that came above all, even his own children. So, when he heard the older ones talking in the kitchen as he was recovering from his last hungover in the family couch, and they pronounced the name 'Mickey Milkovich”, they got all his attention.

 

“I swear, Fiona! Apparently, they settled in New York after they left this hellhole, and now Ian is banging Mickey.”

 

“That's... I don't even know what to say.”

 

“Yeah, well. Ian is pretty enamoured with the guy.”

 

“Enamoured? Really, Lip?” Fiona said with a smile.

 

“Give me a break, I've been reading French literature these days. And it's totally appropriate.”

 

“I just hope Ian knows what he is doing.”

 

Lip took the cigarette he had placed behind his ear earlier, lit it and passed it to his older sister.

 

“Honestly, I don't think he does. But he is his own man. Told him what I thought, now it's his call.”

 

***

Few hours later, Franck was heading to the Alibi, content with the piece of information he had collected shamelessly. He walked in, confident, with a smug smile. Kev instantly noticed his arrival, and put back the bottle of whiskey that was on display on the bar.

 

“You're not drinking for free, Franck, I'm warning you.” He said, not even looking at the Gallagher's patriarch.

 

“As much as I love to drown my sorrow in alcohol, Kev, that's not why I'm here. I'm looking for Ronnie.” Franck replied as he took a seat.

 

“That's grand. Why would you wanna see him when everybody knows you owe the Milkoviches a shitload of money?”

 

Franck was about to reply, but Kev silenced him with a hand gesturing in front of his face.

 

“Know what? I don't even want to know. Ronnie should be here in a minute, he always comes here for a drink after work.”

 

“Well, then, I guess I just have to wait.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Ronnie Milkovich barged into the Alibi as if it was his own place. He threw a bunch of insults on his way to the bar and stopped when he saw Franck.

 

“You fucking son of a-”

 

“Hey, hey, hey Ronnie. Don't be so rude my friend, I'm here to talk.” Franck lifted his hands in surrender as he said so.

 

“You got my money?” Ronnie barked.

 

“No” Franck jumped from his seat, and put a safe distance between him and his creditor “But I have something that I'm sure will interest you.”

 

Ronnie gave him a skeptical looking, but dropped the pit-bull act and went to the pool. Franck followed suit, and when no one could hear, he gave Ronnie all the information Terry Milkovich wanted for years. See, Terry was still in prison but he never forgave his son for being “an aids monkey”. Terry Milkovich couldn't have a gay son, not in this life, not in any life. Even behind bars, he swore on his wife's grave that he would find his son, and end him himself. Ronnie doing it was just a transfer of power.

 

Mandy and Mickey were the only who got out of Chicago. Their brothers were all in jail, except for Iggy, but they didn't know about their brother's whereabouts. Iggy had a phone number in case of trouble, but he wasn't allowed to use it for any other purpose. Iggy wasn't as smart as Mickey, or as fierce as Mandy, but he was kind. It was one of the few qualities the three of them shared. He always had a soft spot for Mickey and Mandy, and wherever they were, they were still his baby sister and brother.

 

He never got to get out of the family business, but unlike his father and his uncle, he was capable of telling right from wrong. The family house had been seized by the government years ago, so he was living with his uncle now. He got back from work that day, and knew from the moment his uncle stopped his phone conversation and stayed silent, looking suspicious, that something was wrong. He pulled out a beer from the fridge, took off his jacket and gestured toward the bathroom to make his uncle know that he needed a shower. He locked the door and turned on the water but he didn't get in; instead he went full on eavesdropping mode.

 

“I'm telling ya, they're in New York. He's fucking with one of the Gallaghers, the ginger one. Apparently, the fucker has a fancy gym there.”

 

Iggy's mouth dropped open; he understood immediately what his uncle was talking about. He couldn't hear a thing after that, his mind focused on the fact that his family was in danger, and that he had the power to help them out.

 

*****

 

“I could get used to this, you know?” Ian whispered. He ran his free hand on Mickey's back, feeling he could do this for hours. Each centimetres counted if you asked Ian.

 

Mickey scooted even closer if that what possible, relishing in the warmth Ian provided. His head was pressed against Ian's chest now, and one of his legs was trapped between Ian's. Everything was quiet in the apartment, which could only mean that Lip had already left for work. As usual, the traffic in New York city was loud as all hell, but Ian and Mickey seemed oblivious to what was happening behind the walls of the room. Mickey sighed, satisfied, and bit at Ian's pec before pressing a kiss on the slightly marked skin. He barged in Ian's room the night before and they pretty much fell asleep the minute their skins got in contact. Like a magic trick. Peacefulness.

 

“You're a needy son of a bitch, that's why.” Mickey grunted, trying to hide his smile.

Ian softly pinched him but he didn't let Mickey out of his grasp when the other man flinched under his embrace. An angel passed by, leaving Ian content, until Mickey spoke again.

 

“You shouldn't though.” he said. His tone was so calm, it threw Ian off for a second. It was like he had rehearsed that conversation; he was always impressed with Mickey's capacity to keep it cool no matter what when it came to feelings. No hesitation, no tremors. Just a gut-wrenching truth for Ian to stomach.

 

“Mickey, I-”

 

“There's nothing to say, Gallagher. Don't you dare add something.”

 

Mickey looked up at him, and he tried, he really tried to convey in that look all he had. Waffling back and forth was useless. Ian was going back. Who cares that they seem to be perfect for each other? Or that Mickey thinks about him all the time? Not that he would ever admit daydreaming about him and Ian fucking on every available surface of his apartment. Or simply watching a Seagal movie, drinking beer and stealing glances like a couple of horny teenagers.

 

“I was going to say that I have to stay a couple of days more. I couldn't find the perfect candidate to take over Rick, and I don't want to rush things, you know?” Ian said, unsure.

 

“Yeah?” If Mickey's tone was hopeful, once again, it's nobody's business.

 

“Yep.

 

Mickey pressed a light kiss on Ian's lip, and sighed deeply.

 

"Good. Cause' i'm not ready.” he said in a whisper. Ian heard.

 

 

***

In a short amount of time, Ian and Mickey had become quite domestic. It was still early but Mickey's shift started at 11am and he couldn't afford to be late. He went to take a shower, and Ian got up as well to make them breakfast. The day before, he ran a few errands and bought things he knew Mickey liked. Just things Mickey mentioned he picked up and stored in his head unconsciously. Strong coffee that would wake up the dead, poptarts (strawberry, please), chocolate syrup to go with pancakes. He didn't have any orange juice, they finished the bottle the other night with Jack Daniels, because yeah, that was a thing now.

When Mickey got out of the shower, his hair in a mess and wet, he took Ian breath away for a second. When he came out of his trance, the look Mickey gave him filled him with something he couldn't quite describe. Awe, maybe. Affection, perhaps. Lust, for sure. He was glad to witness that he wasn't the only one affected by the other's presence. But to be fair, Mickey was fully dressed, when Ian was only wearing a pair of boxers he wasn't sure was his. They sat at the kitchen table, and ate in a comfortable silence. A billion thoughts ran through Ian's mind. He didn't tell Mickey that he was considering taking over the gym in New York, and trust Rick to manage the one in LA. _It would be the easiest way to do this_ , he thought, but he didn't want to scare Mickey off by coming back so abruptly in the city. It would mean so much more than what they imagined so far, it was a risky move. The thought of spending his days so far away from Mickey though, that was something Ian wasn't ready for.

 

“Something on your mind, Gallagher?” Mickey asked.

 

Ian looked up from his plate, only to see Mickey staring at him with a worried expression on his face. Ian gave him his brightest smile, which softened the other man a bit.

 

“Just thinking that, since I'm gonna be here for a couple more days, we should make the most out of it" he said with a devilish grin. Mickey returned his smile with one that broke Ian's heart, but in such a good way he didn't care.

 

“My sister works the night shift tonight. Come to my place, I'll cook.”

 

“Ow, are you proposing to wine and dine me, Mickey Milkovich?”

 

“Fuck off.” Mickey replied. There was absolutely no threat in it.

 

Ian stared affectionally at him for while, before he stood up and kneeled down next to Mickey. The other man looked at him with surprise, but didn't move an inch. Ian leaned in, and captured Mickey's mouth with his mouth. The kiss started soft, but quickly Mickey took over and turned the soft gesture into a passionate kiss. He thought that he could kiss Ian forever, if that was allowed. It was Ian who eventually broke the kiss; he stood up, pressed a light kiss on Mickey's head.

 

“Pity you're already showered and all, I would have invited you. Just close the door on your way out. I'll see you at 8.”

 

That night, when Ian went to Mickey's place, the apartment was empty.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I love Iggy. And I love you all ! Comments really appreciated ! You know where to find me.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and Say hello : goddamit-mir.tumblr.com


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